That'll do,
Johnny — I believe this here tool is as sharp as I have any
occasion for."
"What's the use of pouring water upon the grindstone?" said
Ellen; — "why wouldn't it do as well dry?"
"I can't tell, I am sure," replied Mr. Van Brunt, who was
slowly drawing his thumb over the edge of the axe; — "your
questions are a good deal too sharp for me, Miss Ellen; I only
know it would spoil the axe, or the grindstone, or both, most
likely."
"It's very odd," said Ellen, thoughtfully — "I wish I knew
everything. But, O dear! I am not likely to know anything,"
said she, her countenance suddenly changing from its pleased
inquisitive look to a cloud of disappointment and sorrow. Mr.
Van Brunt noticed the change.
"Ain't your aunt going to send you to school, then?" said he.
"I don't know," said Ellen, sighing — "she never speaks about
it, nor about anything else. But I declare I'll make her!" she
exclaimed, changing again. "I'll go right in and ask her, and
then she'll have to tell me. I will! I am tired of living so.
I'll know what she means to do, and then I can tell what _I_
must do."
Mr. Van Brunt, seemingly dubious about the success of this
line of conduct, stroked his chin and his axe alternately two
or three times in silence, and finally walked off. Ellen,
without waiting for her courage to cool, went directly into
the house.
Miss Fortune, however, was not in the kitchen; to follow her
into her secret haunts, the dairy, cellar, or lower kitchen,
was not to be thought of.
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