away relics from the board. She made no move of welcome or hospitable invitation; but Diana hastened to remove the traces of disorder, and set clean plates and cups, and bring fresh butter, and bread, and make fresh tea. How very pleasant, and how extremely unpleasant, it was altogether!
"Mother," she said, when all was ready, "won't you come and taste Mr.
Knowlton's fish?"
"I guess I know how fish taste. I haven't eaten the trout of that brook all my life, without."
"But you don't know my cookery," said Mr. Knowlton; "that's something new."
"I don't see the sense of doing things in an outlandish way, when you have no need to. Nor I don't see why men should cook, as long as there's women about."
"What is outlandish?" inquired Mr. Knowlton.
"What you've been doing, I should say."
"Come and try my cookery, Mrs. Starling; you will never say anything against men in that capacity again."
"I never say anything against men anyhow; only against men cooking; and that ain't natural."
"It comes quite natural to me," said the young officer. "Only taste my trout, Mrs. Starling, and you will be quite reconciled to me again."
"I ain't quarrelling with nobody – fur's I know," said Mrs. Starling; "but I've had my supper."
"Well, we haven't had ours," said the young man; and he set himself not only to supply that deficiency in his own case, but to secure that Diana should enjoy and eat hers in spite of all hindrances. He saw that she was wofully annoyed by her mother's manner; it brought out his own more in contrast than perhaps otherwise would have been. He helped her, he coaxed her, he praised the trout, and the tea, and the bread, and the butter; he peppered and salted anew, when he thought it necessary, on her own plate; and he talked and told stories, and laughed and made her laugh, till even Mrs. Starling, moving about in the pantry, moved softly and set down the dishes carefully, that she too might hear. Diana sometimes knew that she did so; at other times was fain to forget everything but the glamour of the moment. Trout were disposed of at last, however, and the remainder was cold; bread and butter had done its duty; and Mr. Knowlton rose from table. His adieux were gay – quite unaffected by Mrs. Starling's determined holding aloof; and involuntarily Diana stood by the table where she could look out of the window, till she had seen him mount into his waggon and go off.
"Have you got through?" said Mrs. Starling.
"Supper?" said Diana, starting. "Yes, mother."
"Then perhaps I can have a chance now. Do you think there is anything in the world to do? or is it all done up, in the world you have got into?"
Diana began clearing away the relics of the trout supper, in silence and with all haste.
"That ain't all," said Mrs. Starling. "The house don't stand still for nobody, nor the world, nor things generally. The sponge has got to be set for the bread; and there's the beans, Diana; to-morrow's the day for the beans; and they ain't looked over yet, nor put in soak. And you'd better get out some codfish and put that on the stove. I don't know what to have for breakfast if I don't have that. You'd best go and get off your dress, first thing; that's my counsel to ye; and save washing that to-morrow."
Diana went into no reasoning, on that subject or any other; but she managed to do all that was demanded of her without changing her dress, and yet without damaging its fresh neatness. In silence, and in an uncomfortable mute antagonism which each one felt in every movement of the other. Odd it is, that when words for any reason are restrained, the feeling supposed to be kept back manifests itself in the turn of the shoulders and the set of the head, in the putting down of the foot or the raising of the hand, nay, in the harmless movements of pans and kettles. The work was done, however, punctually, as always in that house; though Diana's feeling of mingled resentment and shame grew as the evening wore on. She was glad when the last pan was lifted for the last time, the key turned in the lock of the door of the lean-to, and she and her mother moved into the other part of the house, preparatory to seeking their several rooms. But Mrs. Starling had not done her work yet.
"When's that young man comin' again?" she asked abruptly at the foot of the stairs, stopping to trim the wick of her candle, and looking into the light without winking.
"I don't know – " Diana faltered. "I don't know that he is ever coming again."
"Don't expect him either, don't you?"
"I think it would be odd if he didn't," said Diana bravely, after a moment's hesitation.
"Odd! why?"
Diana hesitated longer this time, and the words did not come for her waiting.
"Why odd?" repeated Mrs. Starling sharply.
"When people seem to like a place – they are apt to come again," said
Diana, flushing a little.
"Seem to," said Mrs. Starling. "Now, Diana, I have just this one thing to say. Don't you go and give that young fellow no encouragement."
"Encouragement, mother!" repeated Diana.
"Yes, encouragement. Don't you give him any. Mind my words. 'Cause, if you do, I won't!"
"But, mother!" said Diana, "what is there to encourage? I could not help going to show the brook to him to-day."
"You couldn't?" said Mrs. Starling, beginning to mount the stairs. "Well, it is good to practise. Suppose'n he asked you to let him show you the Mississippi – or the Pacific Ocean; couldn't you help that?"
"Mother, I am ashamed!" said poor Diana. "Just think. He is educated, and has every advantage, and is an officer in the United States army now; and what am I?"
"Worth three dozen of him," said Mrs. Starling decidedly.
"He wouldn't think so, mother, nor anybody else but you."
"Well, I think so, mind, and that's enough. I ain't a goin' to give you to him, not if he was fifty officers in the United States army. So keep my words, Diana, and mind what I say. I never will give you to him, nor to any other man that calls himself a soldier and looks down upon folks that are better than he is. I won't let you marry him; so don't you go and tell him you will."
"He won't ask me, mother. You make me ashamed!" said Diana, with her cheeks burning; "but I am sure he does not look down upon me."
"Nobody shall marry you that sets himself up above me," said Mrs.
Starling as she closed her door. "Mind!"
And Diana went into her own room, and shut her door, and sat down to breathe. "Suppose he should ask you to let him show you the Mississippi, or the Pacific?" And the hot flush rushed over her and she hid her face, as if even from herself. "He will not. But what if he should?" Mrs. Starling had raised the question. Diana, in very maidenly shame, tried to beat it down and stamp the life out of it. But that was more than she could do.
CHAPTER VII.
BELLES AND BLACKBERRIES
In the first flush of Diana's distress that night, it had seemed to her that the sight of Lieut. Knowlton in all time to come could but give her additional distress. How could she look at him? But the clear morning light found her nerves quiet again,
