“Poor child!” said Mrs. Landholm, —­ “she has something to learn.  There is good in her too.”

“Ay,” said her son, “and there is gold in the earth; but it wants hands.”

“Yes,” said Mrs. Landholm, —­ “if she only fell into good hands —­”

It might have been tempting, to a certain class of minds, to look at that pretty little figure flying off at full trot in all the riot of self-guidance, and to know that it only wanted good hands to train her into something really fine.  But Mrs. Landholm went back to her ironing, and Winthrop to drive his oxen a field.

Elizabeth trotted till she had left them out of sight; and then walked her horse slowly while she thought what had been meant by that queer speech of Winthrop’s.  Then she reminded herself that it was of no sort of consequence what had been meant by it, and she trotted on again.

Asahel as usual came out to hold her bridle when she returned.

“Asahel, who takes care of my horse?” she said as she was dismounting.

“Ain’t it handsomely done?” said Asahel.

“Yes, —­ beautifully.  Who does it?”

“It’s somebody that always does things so,” said Asahel oracularly, a little in doubt how he should answer.

“Well, who?”

“Don’t you know?”

“Of course I don’t!  Who is it?”

“It’s Winthrop.”

“Winthrop!” —­

“Yes.  He does it.”

Elizabeth’s cheeks burnt.

“Where’s that man of yours —­ why don’t he do it?”

“Sam? —­ O he don’t know —­ I guess he ain’t up to it.”

Asahel led away the horse, and Elizabeth went into the house, ready to cry with vexation.  But it was not generally her fashion to vent vexation so.

“What’s the matter now?” said her cousin.  “What adventure have you met with this morning?”

“Nothing at all.”

“Well, what’s the matter?”

“Nothing —­ only I want to lay my whip about somebody’s shoulders, —­ if I could find the right person.”

“Well ’taint me,” said Rose shrinking.  “Look here —­ I’ve got a delicious plan in my head —­ I’m going to make them take us in the boat round the bay, after huckleberries.”

“Absurd!”

“What’s absurd?”

“That.”

“Why?”

“Who’ll take you?”

“No matter —­ somebody, I don’t know who; —­ Rufus.  But you’ll go?”

“Indeed I won’t.”

“Why?”

“The best reason in the world.  I don’t want to.”

“But I want you to go —­ for my sake, Lizzie.”

“I won’t do it for anybody’s sake.  And Rose —­ I think you take a great deal too much of Rufus’s time.  I don’t believe he does his duty on the farm, and he can’t, if you will call upon him so much.”

“He’s not obliged to do what I ask him,” said Rose pouting; “and I’m not going to stay here if I can’t amuse myself.  But come! —­ you’ll go in the bay after huckleberries?”