"Ain't Miss Fortune queer to live in the way she does?"
"What way?" said Ellen.
"Why, without any help doing all her own work, and living all alone, when she's so rich as she is."
"Is she rich?" asked Ellen.
"Rich! I guess she is! she's one of the very best farms in the country, and money enough to have a dozen help, if she wanted 'em. Van Brunt takes care of the farm, you know?"
"Does he?" said Ellen.
"Why, yes, of course he does; didn't you know that? what did you think he was at your house all the time for?"
"I am sure I don't know," said Ellen. "And are those Aunt
Fortune's oxen that he drives?"
"To be sure they are. Well, I do think you are green, to have been there all this time, and not found that out. Mr. Van Brunt does just what he pleases over the whole farm, though; hires what help he wants, manages everything; and then he has his share of all that comes off it. I tell you what you'd better make friends with Van Brunt, for if anybody can help you when your aunt gets one of her ugly fits, it's him; she don't care to meddle with him much."
Leaving the lane, the two girls took a footpath leading across the fields. The stranger was greatly amused here with Ellen's awkwardness in climbing fences. Where it was a possible thing, she was fain to crawl under; but one or twice that could not be done, and having, with infinite difficulty, mounted to the top rail, poor Ellen sat there in a most tottering condition, uncertain on which side of the fence she should tumble over, but seeing no other possible way of getting down. The more she trembled the more her companion laughed, standing aloof meanwhile, and insisting she should get down by herself. Necessity enabled her to do this at last, and each time the task became easier; but Ellen secretly made up her mind that her new friend was not likely to prove a very good one.