"Yes!--" he said sadly and thoughtfully;--"but my dear Miss Fleda, you know the way to build it up again. I would be very glad to bear all need for it away from you!"
They had reached the gate. Fleda could not look up to thank him; the hand she held out was grasped, more than kindly, and he turned away.
Fleda's tears came hot again as she went up the walk; she held her head down to hide them and went round the back way.
Chapter XXIX.
Now, the melancholy god protect thee; and the tailor make thy doublet of changeable taffeta, for thy mind is a very opal!--Twelfth Night.
"Well what did you come home for?" was Barby's salutation;--"here's company been waiting for you till they're tired, and I am sure I be."
"Company!!--" said Fleda.
"Yes, and it's ungrateful in you to say so," said Barby, "for she's been in a wonderful hurry to see you,--or to get somethin' to eat; I don't know which; a little o' both, I hope in charity."
"Why didn't you give her something to eat? Who is it?"
"I don't know who it is! It's one of your highfliers, that's all I can make out. She 'a'n't a hat a bit better than a man's beaver,--one 'ud think she had stole her little brother's for a spree, if the rest of her was like common folks; but she's got a tail to her dress as long as from here to Queechy Run; and she's been tiddling in and out here with it puckered up under her arm sixty times. I guess she belongs to some company of female militie, for the body of it is all thick with braid and buttons. I believe she ha'n't sot still five minutes since she come into the house, till I don't know whether I am on my head or my heels."