another--Fleda, child, you put on your sun-bonnet and take these gentlemen
back to the twenty-acre lot, and from there you can tell 'em how to go so
I guess they won't mistake it."

"By no means!" said Mr. Carleton; "we cannot give her so much trouble; it
would be buying our pleasure at much too dear a rate."

"Tut, tut," said the old gentleman; "she thinks nothing of trouble, and
the walk'll do her good. She'd like to be out all day, I believe, if she
had any one to go along with, but I'm rather a stupid companion for such a
spry little pair of feet. Fleda, look here,--when they get to the lot they
can find their own way after that. You know where the place is--where your
cousin Seth shot so many woodcock last year, over in Mr. Hurlbut's
land,--when you get to the big lot you must tell these gentlemen to go
straight over the hill, not Squire Thornton's hill, but mine, at the back
of the lot,--they must go straight over it till they come to cleared land
on the other side; then they must keep along by the edge of the wood, to
the right, till they come to the brook; they must _cross the brook_, and
follow up the opposite bank, and they'll know the ground when they come to
it, or they don't deserve to. Do you understand?--now run and get your hat
for they ought to be off."

Fleda went, but neither her step nor her look shewed any great willingness
to the business.

"I am sure, Mr. Ringgan," said Mr. Carleton, "your little granddaughter
has some reason for not wishing to take such a long walk this morning.
Pray allow us to go without her."

"Pho, pho," said the old gentleman, "she wants to go."