And sipping his tea for some time, the old doctor sat
listening to Mrs. Rossitur, and eating bread and butter,
saying little, but casting a very frequent glance at the
figure opposite him, behind the tea-board.

"I am afraid," said he, after a while, "that your care for my
good opinion wont outlast an occasion. Is _that_ the way you
look for every day?"

The colour came with the smile; but the old doctor looked at
her in a way that made the tears come too. He turned his eyes
to Mrs. Rossitur for an explanation.

"She is well," said Mrs. Rossitur, fondly — "she has been very
well — except her old headaches now and then; I think she has
grown rather thin, lately."

"Thin!" said the old doctor — "etherealized to a mere abstract
of herself; only that is a very bad figure, for an abstract
should have all the bone and muscle of the subject; and I
should say you had little left but pure spirit. You are the
best proof I ever saw of the principle of the homeopaths — I
see now, that though a little corn may fatten a man, a great
deal may be the death of him."

"But I have tried it both ways, uncle Orrin," said Fleda,
laughing. "I ought to be a happy medium between plethora and
starvation. I am pretty substantial, what there is of me."