The old gentleman drew up his horse. "So he has!" said he.
Their eyes were upon the far end of the deep lot, where at the edge of one of the pieces of woodland spoken of, a picturesque group of men and boys in frocks and broad-brimmed white hats were busied in filling their wagon under a clump of the now thin and yellow leaved butternut trees.
"The scoundrel!" said Mr. Ringgan under his breath.
"Would it be any use, grandpa, for me to jump down and run and tell them you don't want them to take the butternuts?--I shall have so few."
"No, dear, no," said her grandfather, "they have got 'em about all by this time; the mischief's done. Didenhover meant to let 'em have 'em unknown to me, and pocket the pay himself. Get up!"
Fleda drew a long breath, and gave a hard look at the distant wagon where _her_ butternuts were going in by handfuls. She said no more.
It was but a few fields further on that the old gentleman came to a sudden stop again.
"Ain't there some of my sheep over yonder there, Fleda,--along with Squire Thornton's?"
"I don't know, grandpa," said Fleda,--"I can't see--yes, I do see--yes, they are, grandpa; I see the mark."
"I thought so!" said Mr. Ringgan bitterly; "I told Didenhover, only three days ago, that if he didn't make up that fence the sheep would be out, or Squire Thornton's would be in;--only three days ago!--Ah well!" said he, shaking the reins to make the mare move on again,--"it's all of a piece.--Every thing goes--I can't help it."
"Why do you keep him, grandpa, if he don't behave right?" Fleda ventured to ask gently.
"'Cause I can't get rid of him, dear," Mr. Ringgan answered rather shortly.
And till they got to the post-office he seemed in a disagreeable kind of muse, which Fleda did not choose to break in upon. So the mile and a half was driven in sober silence.
"Shall I get out and go in, grandpa?" said Fleda when he drew up before the house.
"No, deary," said he in his usual kind tone; "you sit still. Holloa there!--Good-day, Mr. Sampion--have you got any thing for me?" The man disappeared and came out again.
"There's your paper, grandpa," said Fleda.
"Ay, and something else," said Mr. Ringgan: "I declare!--Miss Fleda Ringgan--care of E. Ringgan, Esq.'--There, dear, there it is."