"Why, yes, of course he does; didn't you know that? what did you think he was at your house all the time for?" "I am sure I don't know," said Ellen. "And are those Aunt Fortune's oxen that he drives?" "To be sure they are. Well, I do think you are green, to have been there all this time, and not found that out. Mr. Van Brunt does just what he pleases over the whole farm, though; hires what help he wants, manages everything; and then he has his share of all that comes off it. I tell you what — you'd better make friends with Van Brunt, for if anybody can help you when your aunt gets one of her ugly fits, it's him; she don't care to meddle with him much." Leaving the lane, the two girls took a footpath leading across the fields. The stranger was greatly amused here with Ellen's awkwardness in climbing fences. Where it was a possible thing, she was fain to crawl under; but one or twice that could not be done, and having, with infinite difficulty, mounted to the top rail, poor Ellen sat there in a most tottering condition, uncertain on which side of the fence she should tumble over, but seeing no other possible way of getting down. The more she trembled the more her companion laughed, standing aloof meanwhile, and insisting she should get down by herself. Necessity enabled her to do this at last, and each time the task became easier; but Ellen secretly made up her mind that her new friend was not likely to prove a very good one. As they went along, she pointed out to Ellen two or three houses in the distance, and gave her not a little gossip about the people who lived in them; but all this Ellen scarcely heard, and cared nothing at all about. She had paused by the side of a large rock standing alone by the wayside, and was looking very closely at its surface. "What is this curious brown stuff," said Ellen, "growing all over the rock — like shrivelled and dried-up leaves? Isn't it curious? — part of it stands out like a leaf, and part of it sticks fast; I wonder if it grows here, or what it is." "Oh, never mind," said the other; "it always grows on the rocks everywhere; I don't know what it is — and what's more, I don't care. 'Tain't worth looking at. Come!" Ellen followed her. But presently the path entered an open woodland, and now her delight broke forth beyond bounds. "Oh, how pleasant this is! how lovely this is! Isn't it beautiful?" she exclaimed. "Isn't _what_ beautiful? I do think you are the queerest girl, Ellen." "Why, everything," said Ellen, not minding the latter part of the sentence; "the ground is beautiful, and those tall trees, and that beautiful blue sky — only look at it!" "The ground is all covered with stones and rocks — is that what you call beautiful? — and the trees are as homely as they can be, with their great brown stems and no leaves. Come! — what _are_ you staring at?" Ellen's eyes were fixed on a string of dark spots, which were rapidly passing overhead.