with a bat? --
that was scutching."

"That day when mamma said, -- mamma said, you were working too
hard?"

"I think it is very likely."

"I thought we were done dressing flax?" remarked Asahel.

"_We!_ -- well, I suppose you have, for this season."

"Well, ain't you done dressing flax?"

"No, sir."

"I thought you said the flax was all done, Winthrop?" said his
mother.

"My father's is all done, ma'am."

"And yet you have been dressing flax to-day?" said Asahel;
while his mother looked.

"Mamma," said Winthrop, "I wish Asahel was a little older. --
He would be a help."

"Who have you been working for?" said the child.

"For myself."

"Where have you been, Winthrop?" said his mother in a lower
tone of inquiry.

"I have been over the mountain, mamma, -- to Mr. Upshur's."

"Dressing flax?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"And you have come over the mountain to-night?"

"Yes, mother."

She stooped in silence to the fire to take up her tea-pot; but
Asahel exclaimed,

"It ain't right, mamma, is it, for Winthrop to be dressing
flax for anybody else?"

"What's the wrong?" said his brother.

"Is it, mamma?"

But mamma was silent.

"What's the wrong?" repeated Winthrop.

"Because you ought to be doing your own business."

"Never did, if I didn't to-day," Winthrop remarked as he came
to the table.

"For shame Asahel!" put in little Winifred with her childish
voice; -- "_you_ don't know. Governor always is right."

It was a very cold February, and it was a very bleak walk over
the mountain; but Winthrop took it many a time. His mother now
and then said when she saw him come in or go out, "Don't
overtry yourself, my son! --" but he answered her always with
his usual composure, or with one of those deep breaking-up
looks which acknowledged only her care -- not the need for it.
As Karen said, "he had a pretty strength to begin with;" and
it was so well begun that all the exposure and hardship served
rather to its development and maturing.

The snow melted from off the hills, and the winter blasts came
more fitfully, and were changed for soft south airs between
times. There was an end to dressing flax. The spring work was
opening; and Winthrop had enough to do without working on his
own score. Then Mr. Landholm came home; and the energies of
both the one and the other were fully taxed, at the plough and
the harrow, in the barnyard and in the forest, where in all
the want of Rufus made a great gap. Mrs. La