"Compact! one isn't bound to keep compacts with unearthly personages,"
said Rossitur, half sulkily and half angrily; "and besides I made none."

Mr. Carleton turned from him very coolly and walked on.

They left the table-land and the wood, entered the valley again, and
passed through a large orchard, the last of the succession of fields which
stretched along it. Beyond this orchard the ground rose suddenly, and on
the steep hill-side there had been a large plantation of Indian corn. The
corn was harvested, but the ground was still covered with numberless
little stacks of the corn-stalks. Half way up the hill stood three ancient
chestnut trees; veritable patriarchs of the nut tribe they were, and
respected and esteemed as patriarchs should be.

"There are no 'dropping nuts' to-day, either," said Fleda, to whom the
sight of her forest friends in the distance probably suggested the
thought, for she had not spoken for some time. "I suppose there hasn't
been frost enough yet."

"Why you have a good memory, Fairy," said Mr. Carleton. "Do you give the
nuts leave to fall of themselves?"

"Oh sometimes grandpa and I go a nutting," said the little girl getting
lightly over the fence,--"but we haven't been this year."

"Then it is a pleasure to come yet?"

"No," said Fleda quietly, "the trees near the house have been stripped;
and the only other nice place there is for us to go to, Mr. Didenhover let
the Shakers have the nuts. I sha'n't get any this year."