Faith had drawn her chair a little back and with her head leaning on the back of Mr. Linden's chair, listened--in a spirit not very different from Johnny's own. She looked up then when it was done, with almost as childlike a brow. It had quieted him, as with a charm, and the little smile he gave Faith was almost wondering why she looked grave.

"You've been here a good while," he said, as if the mere announcement of the fact spoke his thanks.

"Has she?" Mr. Linden said. "What has Miss Faith done with you, Johnny, if she has been here a good while?"

"All sorts of things," Johnny answered, with another comprehensive expression of grat.i.tude.

"I thought so!" said Mr. Linden. "I shouldn't wonder a bit if she had dressed you up in something she used to wear herself."

"She wasn't ever so little," the child said softly.

Faith had been preparing for him a cup of some light nourishment which he was to take from time to time, and now coming to Mr. Linden's side kneeled down there before Johnny to give it to him. The child took the delicate spoonfuls as she gave them, turning his fair eyes from her to Mr. Linden as if he felt in a very sweet atmosphere of love and care; and when she went away with the cup he said in his slow fashion,

"I love her very much."

And Faith heard the answer--

"And so do I."

Coming up behind Mr. Linden she laid her hand on his shoulder.

"Endecott--where are you going to take dinner and rest to-day?"

"O I will take rest by the way," he answered lightly, and with a smile at her. "There is dinner enough in my supper basket--I have not much time for it, neither."

"School again this afternoon?"

"Yes I must be there for awhile."

Faith moved away, remarking in a different tone, "Your supper basket is at home, sir!"--and busied her energies about serving him as she had just served Johnny. With something more substantial however. Faith had brought a lunch basket, and in five minutes had made Mr. Linden a cup of home tea.

"Now how shall we manage?" she said;--"for Johnny must have you every minute while you are here--and there is no such thing as a little table. I shall have to be table and dumb waiter for you--if you won't mind."

And so Faith pulled up her chair again and sat down, with the basket open on her lap and Mr. Linden's cup in her hand.

"I only hope," she said, "that Dr. Harrison will not choose this particular minute to come in! If he does, catch the cup of tea, Endecott!--for I won't answer for anything."

"I don't know whether I should be most sorry or proud, in case of such event," said Mr. Linden,--"however, I do not wish the doctor anything so disagreeable. But I will promise to catch the cup of tea--and everything else, down to his displeasure. Only you must not be a _dumb_ waiter; for that will not suit me at all."

It was one of those pretty bits of sunshine that sometimes shew themselves in the midst of a very unpromising day, the time when they sat there with the lunch basket between them. The refreshment of talk and of lunch (for lunch _is_ refreshing when it is needed) brightened both faces and voices; and Mr. Linden's little charge, in one of his turns of happy rest and ease, watched them--amused and interested--till he fell asleep. By that time Mr. Linden's spare minutes were about over. As he was laying Johnny gently down on the bed, Faith seized her chance.

"You'll let me stay here to-night--won't you, Endecott?"

"It would not be good for you, dear child,--if you stay until night it will be quite as much as you ought to do. But I will see you again by that time."

"I am strong, Endecott."

"Yes, you are strong, little Sunbeam," he said, turning now to her and taking both her hands,--"and yet it is a sort of strength I must guard.

Even sunbeams must not be always on duty. But we'll see about it when I come back."

Mr. Linden went off to his other sphere of action, and soon after Reuben came softly in, just to let Faith know that he was at hand if she wanted anything, and to offer to take her place.

"Reuben!" said Faith suddenly, "have you had any dinner?"

"O yes, ma'am--enough," Reuben said with a smile. "I brought something with me this morning."

Faith put her lunch basket into his hand, but her words were cut short; for she saw Dr. Harrison just coming to the house. She moved away and stood gravely by the fire.

The doctor came in pulling off his glove. He gave his hand to Faith with evident pleasure, but with a frank free pleasure, that had nothing embarra.s.sing about the manner of it; except the indication of its depth. After a few words given with as easy an intonation as if the thermometer were not just a few degrees above zero outside where he had come from, the doctor's eye went over to the other person in the room; and then the doctor himself crossed over and offered his hand.

"I shall never see you, Reuben,"--said he with a very pleasant recollective play of eye and lip,--"without thinking of a _friend_."

The doctor had a more full view of Reuben's eyes, thereupon, than he had ever before been favoured with,--for one moment their clear, true, earnest expression met his. But whatever the boy read--or tried to read--or did not read, he answered simply, as he looked away again,

"You have been that to me, sir."

"I don't know--" said the doctor lightly. "I am afraid not according to your friend. Mr. Linden's definition. But reckon me such a one as I _can_ be, will you?"--He turned away without waiting for the answer and went back to Faith.

"Do you know," he said, "I expected to find you here?"

"Very naturally," said Faith quietly.

"Yes--it is according to my experience. Now how is this child?"--

He turned to see, and so did Faith. He looked at the child, while Faith's eye went from Johnny to him. Both faces were grave, but Faith's grew more grave as she looked.

"How is this child?" she repeated.

"He is not worse," said the doctor; "except that not to be better is to be worse. Are you particularly interested in him?"

Faith looked down at the sweet pure little face, and for a minute or two was very still. She did not even think of answering the doctor, nor dare speak words at all. Her first movement was to push away softly a lock of hair from Johnny's forehead.

"What can I do for him, Dr. Harrison?"

"Not much just now--go on as you have been doing. I will be here to-night again, and then perhaps I shall know more."

He gave her a new medicine for him however; and having said all that was needful on that score, came back with her to the fire and stood a little while talking--just so long as it would do for him to stay with any chance of its being acceptable; talking in a tone that did not jar with the place or the time, gravely and pleasantly, of some matters of interest; and then he went. And Faith sat down by the bedside, and forgot Dr. Harrison; and thought of the Sunday school in the woods that evening in October, and the hymn, "I want to be an angel"; and looked at Johnny with a very full heart.

Not a very long time had pa.s.sed, when Faith heard sleigh bells again, and a person very different from the doctor came softly in; even Mrs.

Derrick. She smiled at Reuben and Faith, and going close up to the bed folded her hands quietly together and stood looking at the sick child; the smile vanishing from her face, her lips taking a tender, pitiful set--her eyes in their experience gravely reading the signs. She looked for a few minutes in silence, then with a little sorrowful sigh she turned to Faith.

"Pretty child," she said, "can't you take a little rest? I'll sit by him now."

"O mother I'm not tired--much. I have not been very busy."

Mrs. Derrick however took the matter into her own hands, and did not content herself till she had Faith on a low seat at her side, and Faith's head on her lap; which was a rest, to mind and body both.