"Why--a--not disagreeably so," said the doctor smiling;--"nothing could be that in the present circumstances,--but I--a--I hadn't calculated upon it for much of a spell beforehand."
Fleda was vexed, and looked,--only unconversable.
"I suppose," said the doctor after a pause,--"that we have not much time to waste--a--in idle moments. Which route do you intend to travel?"
"I was thinking to go by the North River, sir."
"But the ice has collected,--I am afraid,--"
"At Albany, I know; but when I came up there was a boat every other day, and we could get there in time by the stage--this is her day."
"But we have had some pretty tight weather since, if you remember," said the doctor; "and the boats have ceased to connect with the stage. We shall have to go to Greenfield to take the Housatonic which will land us at Bridgeport on the Sound"
"Have we time to reach Greenfield this morning?"
"Oceans of time?" said the doctor delightedly; "I've got my team here and they're jumping out of their skins with having nothing to do and the weather--they'll carry us there as spry as grasshoppers--now, if you're ready, my dear Miss Ringgan!"
There was nothing more but to give and receive those speechless lip-messages that are out of the reach of words, and Mrs. Rossitur's half-spoken last charge, to take care of herself; and with these seals upon her mission Fleda set forth and joined the doctor; thankful for one foil to curiosity in the shape of a veil and only wishing that there were any invented screen that she could place between her and hearing.