"She don't tell all her fancies,--she has _seemed_ to live on tea and toast, for eatables."

The doctor smiled, and went back to Faith who was busy with the flowers; or as Mrs. Derrick said, seemed to be busy with them.

"Are those better than cowslips?" he asked lightly.

"They are more wonderfully beautiful--they are not better in their place."

"How is that?"

"I told you cowslips were bits of spring," said Faith smiling. "These are not that. I think everything in the world--I mean, the natural world--has its place, that it fills."

"Better than any other would?"

"I suppose so. Yes."

"That is admirable philosophy," said the doctor. "Excellent to keep one contented. Three feet of snow is then as good as May zephyrs! Daisies and dandelions are fair subst.i.tutes for geraniums and cacti! And these barren granite fields, where the skeleton rock has hardly covered itself skin deep with soil, are better than flowery prairies of rolling land, and fertile wildernesses of roses!"

"Well," said Faith; "you needn't laugh. I think they are."

"By what trans.m.u.tation of philosophy?"

Faith's philosophy was put to the test by certain sounds which just then came to her ear; the hall door opened and shut quick though softly, and Reuben came lightly upstairs--two stairs at a time!--but his knock at Faith's door was almost as quiet as usual. Whatever spirit of energy was at work in him, however, calmed itself down at sight of Dr. Harrison--whom he did not then stay to greet, but coming up with a swift steady step to Faith's chair, knelt down there and gave her his hand with, "Miss Faith, are you better to-day?"

If a rosebud yesterday shut up in the cold had opened all its beams to the sun,--that was Faith to-day, as she took Reuben's hand and held it.

"That is a very devoted servant of yours, Miss Faith," said the doctor pointedly. "I notice he gives you homage in true chivalric style. Does the trans.m.u.ting philosophy extend thus far also?"

Faith turned the light of her face upon him as she answered, "I shouldn't be worthy of one of those knights or of this, Dr. Harrison, if I would change one for the other."

Reuben had risen to his feet as the doctor spoke, and as he quitted Faith's hand laid his own, with the slightest possible gesture, upon the left breast of his coat; which did not mean (as it would with Sam Stoutenburgh) that there was his heart--but that there were the letters! Then stepping back with a bow acknowledging Dr. Harrison's presence, Reuben went over to the window to speak to Mrs. Derrick. The doctor had seen him before that morning from the window, as with some ordered fish Reuben entered Judge Harrison's gate, and his dress was the same now as then,--how the different offices could be so different and so reconciled--or what _this_ office was, were matters of study.

But clearly Faith was as strong for her knight as her knight was for her.

"I didn't understand the trans.m.u.ting philosophy in the former case,"

the doctor remarked.

"It is not that," said Faith with rising colour, for she had seen Reuben's hand gesture. "It is just taking things as they are."

"That is a philosophy deeper than that of trans.m.u.tation!" said the doctor. "I give it up. But what is the philosophy in this case?--" and he nodded slightly towards Reuben.

"If you ever know him, you'll know, Dr. Harrison," Faith said softly.

"Is he so trustworthy?" said the doctor thoughtfully looking at him; but then he gave his attention to Faith, and talked of herself and what she was to do for herself; until seeing no prospect of the doctor's being out of his way, Reuben was again pa.s.sing them on his way out. The doctor arrested him by a slight but pleasant gesture.

"What are you doing now, Taylor?"

"Nothing new, sir,--a little for my father and a little for myself."

"I saw you doing something for your father, I think to-day. Doesn't that hinder your studies?"

"Mr. Linden used to say that one duty never _really_ hinders another, sir."

"Pleasant doctrine!" said the doctor. "I am tempted to try it now. If you bestow a little time upon me, it will not perhaps interfere with your going to dinner afterwards. Does Mr. Linden continue to hold some of his supervision over you? Do you hear from him sometimes?"

"Yes sir--both,"--was Reuben's prompt answer.

"Then you have something to do with the post-office occasionally?"

"Yes sir."

"And know pretty well what everybody in Pattaqua.s.set says of every other body,--don't you?"

"I don't need to go to the post office for that, sir," Reuben said quietly.

"No--I mean by virtue of another office--that which you exercise for your father. But it is true, isn't it?"

"Not quite, sir. Some people do not talk to me--and some I never stop to hear."

The doctor smiled a little, along with an acute look of approving intelligence.

"Well--do you happen to know what is said or thought of the people I was the means of putting into the post-office, half a year ago?"

"Not very well, sir. I haven't heard much said about them."

"As far as your knowledge goes, they seem to be doing their duty?"

"I make no complaint, sir."

Dr. Harrison glanced at Faith with a not pleased expression, and back again. "Does that mean that you have none to make, or that you will make none? I am asking, you surely must know, not officially nor judicially; but to gain private information which it is desirable I should have; and which I ask, and expect to receive, confidentially."

"Sir," Reuben said gravely, though with a manner perfectly respectful, "why do you ask _me?_ The gentlemen of Pattaqua.s.set should know more about their own post-office, than the poor fishers of Quapaw. There is a clannishness among poor people, sir,--if I had heard anything, I should not like to tell you."

The doctor got up and took his old position on the carpet rug, a very slight air of haughty displeasure mixing with his habitual indolent gracefulness.

"This is your knight, Miss Derrick! Apparently the proverb of 'friends'

friends' does not hold good with him. When you are a little older, sir, you will know--if you grow correspondingly wiser--that the fishers of Quapaw or of any other point are precisely the people to know in such a matter what the gentlemen whom it more nearly concerns, cannot get at; and you have yourself given the reason."

Faith looked at Reuben with a little inquiring wonder. But he made no answer, either to her look or the doctor's words; indeed perhaps did not see the former, for his own eyes were cast down. He stood there, the fingers of both hands lightly interlaced, his face quiet to the last degree of immovability. The doctor's first words, to Faith, had brought a moment's flush to his cheeks, but it had pa.s.sed with the moment; gravity and steadiness and truth were all that remained. The doctor recognized them all, but all as adverse or opposition forces.

"I will not detain you longer, sir!--I told you, Miss Faith," he said sitting down and changing his tone, "that I did not know how to cut up cake--still less how to administer it. I found this family--very poor--over at Neanticut, on some of my excursions;--and somewhat carelessly thought they could perform the duty of taking papers out of a bag, as well as wiser people. There is a girl too, the daughter, who seemed clever enough. But I have had reason to doubt my own wisdom in the proceeding, after all."

Faith heard the door close after Reuben with the first of the doctor's words to her. She listened to the rest with a divided interest. Her mind had gone off to her basket of bananas, and was besides occupied with a little lurking wonder at Reuben's impracticability. But with nothing strongly, the feeling of weakness and la.s.situde was so taking the upper hand of every other. The relaxing now began to tell of the great tension she had borne for a day or two; the relaxing was entire, for what the basket had begun Reuben's appearance had finished. Faith was sure he had a letter for her, and so sat and looked at the doctor like one whose senses were floating away in a dream--one of those pleasant dreams that they do not wish to break.

"You are faint!" said the doctor suddenly. "Mrs. Derrick, have you any wine in the house? I should like some here."

But Mrs. Derrick's first step (it seemed but that) was to Faith--taking her out of the easy-chair and putting her on the couch before any one had time to say ay or no. There she left her while she opened the closet and got out the wine; bringing it then to Faith and setting the doctor aside most unceremoniously. Faith had not quite reached the fainting point, though she was near it from mere inanition. She drank the wine, and smiled at them both like one who had a secret wine of her own that she was taking privately.

"What _will_ she eat, Mrs. Derrick?" said the doctor in real concern.

"Tea and toast won't do!"