"I bain't Sam," was Joe's rather cool rejoinder, with a slight relapsing into Yankee Doodle.

"Hollo!" said Mr. Simlins--"I thought you'd learned all school could teach you, and give up to come?"

"Only the last part is true, Mr. Simlins," said Mr. Linden, who while Joe spoke had been himself speaking to one of the other boys.

Mr. Simlins grunted. "School ain't all 'nuts to him,'" he said with a grim smile. "Well which of you was it?--'twas a fellow about as big as you here, you sir!"--addressing in a more a.s.sured tone another boy who was swaggering near,--"_you!_ what have you been doing to Miss Faith?

It was you."

"'Twan't me, nother!" said the boy surlily; "nor I hain't done nothin'!

but minded my own business."

In a tone which implied that Mr. Simlins was not acting on the same laudable principle.

"What has been done?" said Mr. Linden. And certainly _his_ tone implied that he was minding his own business.

"Well," said Mr. Simlins, "I don't know as they've done much of anything; but I guessed they'd been givin' her some sa.s.s or vexin' her somehow; and as she's a kind o' favour_ite_ o' mine it riled me. I was too fur to hear what 'twas."

"Where was she?

"She was round yonder--not fur--There had been some sort of a scrimmage, I guess, between two of 'em, a little one and this fellow; and she parted 'em. She had hold o' this one when I see 'em first--_you_ couldn't have done it better," said Mr. Simlins with a sly cast of his eye;--"you can set her to be your 'vice' when you want one.

I was comin' up from the river, you see, and came up behind 'em, and I couldn't hear what they said; but when she let him go, I see her give a kind o' sheer look round this way, and then she put up her hand to her cheek and cleared for home like--a gazetteer!"--said Mr. Simlins, who had given this information in an undertone. "Made straight tracks for the house, I tell ye!"

"A little one and _which_ one?" was the next inquiry.

Mr. Simlins went peering about among the crowd and finally laid hold on the identical shoulder of little Johnny Fax.

"Ain't it you?" said Mr. Simlins. "Ain't that red basket yourn?"

Johnny nodded.

"I knowed the basket," said Mr. Simlins returning. "That's about all that makes the difference between one boy and another! what sort of a basket he carries. The other fellow is the one I was speakin' to first--I can swear to _him_--the big one."

Mr. Linden took out his watch.

"Thank you, Mr. Simlins," he said. "Boys--it is half past four,--get your nuts and baskets and bring them up to the house. Reuben Taylor--do you see that it is done." With which words Mr. Linden also 'made tracks' for the house--and 'straight' ones, but with not too much notice-taking of the golden leaves under his feet.

The truth about Faith was this. While sitting on the gra.s.s, taking the pleasure of the place and time, the peace was at length broken by discordant sounds in her neighbourhood; sounds of harsh voices, and scuffling. Looking round for the cause and meaning of all this, she found that the voices came from behind a thicket of sumach and laurel at her back, and belonged to some of the boys. Faith went round the thicket. There were a big boy and a little boy tugging at a casket, both tugging; the little fellow holding to it with all his might, while the big boy, almost getting it from him with one hand, was laying the other very freely about his ears and shoulders. Faith heard the little one say, "I'll tell--"

And the other, a boy whose name Faith had learned only that morning, shouted in answer,

"You tell! You tell if you dare! You tell and I'll kill you!--Leave hold!"--

A round blow was given with the words, which told, but the little boy still held on to his basket.

"For shame, Phil Davids! you a big boy!"--said Faith.

There was a stay of proceedings while they looked at her, both parties keeping fast hold however, and both tongues at once combating for hearing and belief. The little boy, Johnny Fax himself, said the nuts were his; which the elder denied.

"Let him have his nuts, Phil," said Faith gently. "He must have them--they belong to him."

"He aint a goin' ter, though," said Davids,--"and _you_ can't do nothin', if you air Mr. Linden's sweetheart. You air--Joe Deacon says you be. Leave hold, you!"--

Thinking Faith quelled perhaps, Phil began the struggle again fiercely, with grappling and blows. But Faith laid hold suddenly on the arm that was rising the second time, and bade the boy sternly behave himself and let the basket go. It was not immediately done. He had strength much more than hers, but something withheld him from exerting it. Nothing withheld his tongue.

"Aint you Mr. Linden's sweetheart?" he said insolently. "Joe Deacon says you be."

"No sir!" said Faith; "and you are a bad boy."

"Joe Deacon says you be!"

But Faith did not relax her hold, and spoke with a steady voice and for that time at least with a steady eye of command which was obeyed.

"Let him go!--Johnny, run off with your basket and be quiet; that's a good boy. Davids, you'll be quiet the rest of the day for your own sake."

The boys parted sullenly, Johnny to run off as she had bidden him; and Faith turned from the green bank, the nut trees, and the frolic, and laying one hand upon the cheek that faced that way, as if to hide its burning from eyes too far off to see it, she went into the house.

She put the brands together which had burnt out, and built the fire up on the strictest principles, though no fire was wanted at present; the day had mellowed into warmth. Perhaps Faith recollected that after she had got through, for she left the fire to take care of itself and sat down again on the doorstep looking towards the nut-tree field. For a good while her cheek wore its troubled flush, her hand went up to it once or twice as if to cool it off, and her brow bespoke her using other and more effectual measures. It cooled at last, into complete quietness and sweetness; and Faith's face was just like itself when the first of the party came back from the nut field.

That first one, as we have seen, was Mr. Linden. He found both the ladies in the farmhouse kitchen; Mrs. Derrick very comfortably at her knitting. Faith was doing nothing; but she looked up, when she looked up, with just her own face; not certainly in the happy glow he had seen under the nut tree, nor with the sparkle of busy pleasure it had worn in the morning; but as it was every day at home.

Mr. Linden arranged the fire and then stood considering it--or something--for a minute in silence; until Mrs. Derrick inquired "if he had found as much as he expected?"--but upon his replying somewhat dryly, "Rather more"--the conversation dropped again.

"You ought to be tired now, Mr. Linden," Faith said gently.

"I am afraid you are."

"No," she said,--"I am not at all."

"Well then--why shouldn't we have our look at Kildeer river? You said we must."

"O, if you like it!" said Faith, a bright little tinge of pleasure coming into her cheek, and her sunbonnet was in hand immediately. "But aren't you tired?" she added doubtfully as they were pa.s.sing out of the door. "You've been hard at work."

"You will have to pay for saying you are not, Miss Faith,--I mean to make you run all the way down to the bank."

And holding out his hand to her, Mr. Linden half made his threat good; for though his own pace was not much more than a quick walk, by means of skilful short cuts and long steps, Faith had a gentle little run a good part of the way. Not down through the crowd of boys and baskets, but skirting the meadow--pa.s.sing from the shelter of one great tree to another, till they reached the bank and saw the blue waters of Kildeer river at their feet. There she was permitted to sit down and rest. A little laughing and a little flushed, her happy look was almost brought back again. But she sat and gazed down at the pretty stream and its picturesque banks without saying anything; letting Mr. Linden take his own view of them. His own view was a peculiar one--to judge by his words.

"Miss Faith, I suppose you are not much acquainted with law forms,--yet you perhaps know that an important witness in an important case, is sometimes put in prison until his evidence is obtained."

Faith looked up at him in pure astonishment, the corners of her mouth indicating that she expected another _puzzle_, or rather was already engaged in one. The look made his gravity give way a little.

"I thought you might like to know your position at present," he said.

"I don't know it yet, Mr. Linden."

"It is that of the unfortunate prisoner to whom I referred."

"A prisoner!--" said Faith looking up at him very much amused. "Well, Mr. Linden?"