"That's what I've been a telling her," said Cynthy, "but she wa'n't a mind to listen to me."
But the two little arms embraced aunt Miriam's cloak and wrappers and the little face was hid there still, and Fleda's answer was a half smothered ejaculation.
"I am so glad you are come, dear aunt Miriam!"
Aunt Miriam kissed her again, and again repeated her request.
"O no--I can't go to bed," said Fleda crying;--"I can't till I know--I am sure something is the matter, or Cynthy wouldn't look so. Do tell me, aunt Miriam!"
"I can't tell you anything, dear, except that grandpa is not well--that is all I know--I am going in to see him. I will tell you in the morning how he is."
"No," said Fleda, "I will wait here till you come out. I couldn't sleep."
Mrs. Plumfield made no more efforts to persuade her, but rid herself of cloak and hood and went into Mr. Ringgan's room. Fleda placed herself again in her chimney corner. Burying her face in her hands, she sat waiting more quietly; and Cynthy, having finished all her business, took a chair on the hearth opposite to her. Both were silent and motionless, except when Cynthy once in a while got up to readjust the sticks of wood on the fire. They sat there waiting so long that Fleda's anxiety began to quicken again.
"Don't you think the doctor is a long time coming, Cynthy?" said she raising her head at last. Her question, breaking that forced silence, sounded fearful.
"It seems kind o' long," said Cynthy. "I guess Watkins ha'n't found him to hum."