"You will not be in that position," said Mr. Linden, "but going on properly with your cakes--as you should be now. Then enter one of my parishioners who lives six miles off, to ask me to come over to his house and instruct him in the best way of hanging his gate,--which I of course promise to do, notwithstanding your protestations that I know nothing of that--nor of anything else. Parishioner goes away and reports. One part of the people say how economical we are!--to make one fire do our cooking and studying. Another part have their suspicions that you keep me at hand to lift off the teakettle (much strengthened by report of your protest.) And the charitable part at once propose to raise my salary--so that we may have as many fires as we like.

Faith--what should we do in the circ.u.mstances?"

Faith was biting her lips and rolling out cakes with the swiftest activity, not allowing Mr. Linden a sight of her face.

"If you hung the gate, I should think you would take the money"--she answered demurely.

"I said you would say I could not do it!" said Mr. Linden. "Which being duly reported and considered by certain other people, will cause them to shake their heads, and wish in half audible (but most telegraphic!) whispers, 'that Mr. Linden were half as smart as his wife'!"

Faith stopped again. "Oh Endy!"--she exclaimed between laughing and pleading.

"Que voulez-vous, Mademoiselle?"

But Faith went at her cakes and finished the few that were left.

"I think you must be very much in want of your breakfast," she said coming to the fire. "You have played Prince Ferdinand--do you think you would mind acting the part of King Alfred, for once?"

"My dear, I will play any part for you whatever!--in our duet. Shall I practise taking off the kettle to begin with?"

"I don't think you had better,"--Faith said with a kept down laugh,--"for it doesn't boil."

"Shall I take you off then? What are you going to do while I play Alfred?--I will not answer for my solo performances."

"I shall not be gone but a few minutes. Do you think you could take this little skillet from the fire if it _did_--boil?"

Mr. Linden might have got into a reverie after she ran away;--but certain it is that the skillet was in imminent danger of "boiling over"

when Faith appeared at his side and with a laughing look at him gently lifted it off.

"You are an excellent Alfred!"

"What version of Alfred have you learned?" he said laughing, and catching it from her hand before it reached the hearth. "I thought hot water was his reward--not his work."

"I thought, Endy, you would like to go up to your room before breakfast. Mother will be down presently."

"And am I to find the perfection of a fire, as usual?" said Mr. Linden, taking both her hands in his and looking at her. "Little Sunbeam!--you should not have done that! Do you know what you deserve?"

She stood before him rather soberly, glancing up and down; but he little guessed what her quietness covered. Though the lines of her lip did give tiny indication that quietness was stirred somewhere. He drew her to him for a moment, with one or two unconnected words of deep affection, then turned and went away. Faith listened to hear the well known run up the stairs--the familiar closing of that door,--how strange it sounded! how gladsome, how sorrowful. She stood still just where Mr. Linden had left her, as if sorrow and joy both held her with detaining hands.

"Why child? Faith!"--said Mrs. Derrick coming into the kitchen, "what _are_ you about? What made you get up so early, Faith? What's the matter?--breakfast ready at this time of day! Couldn't you sleep, pretty child?" she added tenderly.

"I didn't get up very much earlier than usual, mother. Don't you want breakfast?"

"Whenever you like, child," said her mother, taking hold in her turn,--"but what's made you in such a hurry? And what makes you look so, Faith?--You're not pale, neither,--how _do_ you look?"

Faith came so close that her mother could not see, and kissed her.

"Mother, Mr. Linden is here."

"Here!" said Mrs. Derrick with a little sympathetic start--it was not all surprise, nor all joy.--"Pretty child! how glad I am! But why didn't you call me, Faith?--and why don't you go and sit down and be quiet--now you've just been tiring yourself, and I could have done the whole! And of all things, how could he get here in such weather? No wonder you're in a hurry, child!"--and Mrs. Derrick began to work in earnest.

Faith gave her the word or two more that she could give, and went to the dairy. It was Faith's domain; she was alone, and her industry fell from her hands. Breakfast and all might wait. Faith set down her bowl and spoon, sat down herself on the low dairy shelf before the window, cold and November though it was, and let the tears come, of which she had a whole heartful in store; and for a little while they fell faster than the raindrops which beat and rattled against the panes. But this was a gentler shower, and cleared the sky. Faith rose up from the shelf entirely herself again.

So busy, skimming off the smooth cream, she felt the light touch of hands on her shoulders--felt more than that on her cheek. Had the tears left any trace there?--that Mr. Linden brought her face round into view. He asked no such question, however, unless with his eyes.

"Mignonette, what are you about?"

"King Alfred's breakfast. I forgot you knew the way to the dairy!"

"Or could find it if I did not. What shape does my breakfast take in these regions?"

"It takes the shape--Let us go back to the kitchen and we will see."

It was spry work in the kitchen now! How Faith's fingers went about.

But Mr. Linden could make nothing of the form his breakfast was taking--nothing of Faith's mysterious bowl, in which the cream he had seen her skim went into compound with the potatoes he had seen boiling and with also certain b.u.t.ter and eggs. The mixture went into the oven, and then Faith went off to set the table in the parlour. As they were alone to-day the fire in the dining-room was not to be kindled.

The storm beat so differently upon the windows now!--now, when it was only a barrier against people who were not wanted to come in. Mr.

Linden followed Faith in her motions, sometimes with eye and voice, sometimes with his own steps; confusing both her and her arrangements, making her laugh, and himself the cause of various irregularities in the table-setting, which he was very quick to point out.

"Mignonette," he said, "I think it is a perfect day! Do you hear how it storms?"

"And aren't you glad Cindy went to a wedding? And oh, Endy!--how many people will be coming after you to-day?" Faith stopped, knife in hand.

"Did you suppose that I would come here to see you, and then be obliged to see half Pattaqua.s.set instead? I stopped at Patchaug station,--there Reuben met me, and we had as pleasant a four mile drive in the rain as I ever remember. As to the wedding--I think there can never be more than one other so felicitous."

Faith ran off.

And presently the breakfast came in, variously, in her hands and in Mrs. Derrick's. It was broad light now, and the curtains drawn back, but the red firelight still gave the hue of the room; and the breakfast-table and the three people round it wanted for no element or means of comfort. There were the shortcakes, which Mr. Linden might more readily recognize now in their light brown flakiness--his coffee was poured upon the richest of cream; the potatoes came out of the oven in the shape of a great puff-ball, of most tender consistency; and the remains of a cold chicken had been mystified into such a dish of delicacy as no hands but a Frenchwoman's--or Faith's--could concoct.

It's a pleasant thing to be catered for by hands that love you. Mr.

Linden had found that pleasure this morning before. But both Faith and he were undoubtedly ready for their breakfast!

After breakfast came the consideration of a basketful of things Mr.

Linden had brought her. Very simple things they were, and unromantic enough to be useful; yet with sentiment enough about them,--if that name might be given to the tokens of a care that busied itself about all the ins and outs of her daily life, and sought out and remembered the various little things that she wanted and could not get; for the various papers of sugarplums in which the whole were packed, Mr. Linden declared them to be nothing but epithets and adjectives.

The weather held on its way into the afternoon; but what was most unexpected, the afternoon brought a visiter. Mr. Linden and Faith, deep in talk, heard the sound of a foot on the sc.r.a.per and then of a knock at the door, which made them both start up. Faith went to the door. But before she could open it, Mrs. Derrick came up behind her with swift steps and remanded Faith to the parlour.

"I'll open it, child," she said,--"it's no use for you to run the risk of seeing anybody you don't want to." So Faith returned to Mr. Linden.

But the first word set all fears at rest--it was only Reuben Taylor. He presented himself with many apologies, and would fain have told his errand to Mrs. Derrick, but as it was for Faith, the good lady opened the parlour door and bade Reuben go in,--which, as he could not help it, Reuben did. But the colour of his face as he came in!--Mr. Linden took the effect of it--Faith was partly occupied with her own; and Reuben, thinking the sooner the quicker--walked straight up to her.

"Miss Faith," he said, trying to speak as usual, "I beg your pardon--but I was sent here with this,"--and Reuben presented a moderately large round basket, without a handle.

"Reuben, come up to the fire," said Mr. Linden; while Faith took the basket and exclaimed, "This! Who in the world sent you, Reuben?--Yes, come to the fire."

"I am not cold, sir," Reuben said with a look towards where Mr. Linden stood by the mantelpiece, as if his desire was to get out of the room--instead of further in, though he did follow Faith a step or two as she went that way. "I didn't mean to come here to-day, Mr. Linden, but--"

"Didn't mean to come here?" said Mr. Linden smiling,--"what have you been doing, to be afraid of me? Faith, has your postman been remiss?"

They were a pair, Reuben and Faith! though the colour of the one was varying, while Reuben's was steady. Faith nevertheless seized the boy's hand and drew him with gentle violence up to the fire.

"Who sent you with this, Reuben?"