They were about a mile from Queechy when Pleda suddenly exclaimed,
"O Mr. Carleton, please stop the sleigh I--"
The horses were stopped.
"It is only Earl Douglass--our farmer," Fleda said in explanation,--"I want to ask how they are at home."
In answer to her nod of recognition Mr. Douglass came to the side of the vehicle; but till he was there, close, gave her no other answer by word or sign; when there, broke forth his accustomed guttural,
"How d'ye do!"
"How d'ye do, Mr. Douglass," said Fleda. "How are they all at home?"
"Well, there ain't nothin' new among 'em, as I've heerd on," said Earl, diligently though stealthily at the same time qualifying himself to make a report of Mr. Carleton,--"I guess they'll be glad to see you. I be."
"Thank you, Mr. Douglass. How is Hugh?"
"He ain't nothin' different from what he's been for a spell back--at least I ain't heerd that he was.--Maybe he is, but if he is I han't heerd speak of it, and if he was, I think I should ha' heerd speak of it. He was pretty bad a spell ago--about when you went away--but he's been better sen. So they say. I ha'n't seen him.--Well Flidda," he added with somewhat of a sly gleam in his eye,--"do you think you're going to make up your mind to stay to hum this time?"