"Well?--isn't that blank to be filled up?"

"And Shakspeare," said Faith casting down her eyes.

"I cannot let you confine yourself to the study of human nature," said Mr. Linden,--"that will never do. Charles twelfth and Shakspeare want ground to stand upon. Did you ever read anything of Physical Geography?"

She shook her head. "I don't know what that is, Mr. Linden."

"Then I will have the pleasure of introducing you. Ordinary geography is but a sh.e.l.l without it. And if we accidentally go deeper down than the stratum of geography, I will try and bring you back safe. But Miss Faith, you have not done with this book yet--the subject-matter of it.

I want you to carry that further."

"Well," she said smiling,--"I like it. I am ready. What comes next, Mr.

Linden?"

"Did you pay any attention to the algebra part of the examination yesterday?"

"Yes, I believe so. I paid attention to it all--I didn't understand what some of it was about, but I believe I know what you mean."

"How should you like to work with letters and signs instead of figures?

By the way, Miss Faith, your sevens are too much like your nines, and if you drew a check for $500 with that five, you might find yourself paying out $800."

She coloured again, but bowed her head in a.s.sent, quite ignoring in her interest in the subject the extravagance of the supposition by which he ill.u.s.trated it.

"You shall not say that again, Mr. Linden."

"Don't pledge yourself for me," he said smiling,--"I am a lawless kind of person, as perhaps you have found out. But if I were to spend one minute well on the first day of the year, and each succeeding day add to my well-spent minutes so many more as the year was days old--how much of December would be well spent?"

But Faith could not tell.

"You see what is before you--" Mr. Linden said; "you must work that out, Miss Faith, in more ways than one. Well tell me this--Which is nearest to us now,--my sister Pet or the Khan of Tartary,--supposing her in Rome and him in his own dominions?"

Faith coloured again, a good deal, and with some sorrow.

"I am glad you asked me," she said;--"I want you should know it,--but I don't know anything about that, Mr. Linden. I know a _little_, of course," she said correcting herself, "but I couldn't answer you."

"But why can't you understand," he said looking at her, "that I am just some old, torn, dog-eared book of questions that you are looking into for the first time? I don't like to be made to feel like a bran new schoolbook."

Faith looked at him, and probably the words "old, torn, and dog-eared"

made a peculiar contrast, for her eye flashed and in spite of everything she laughed, her musical little laugh.

"That sounds reasonable," said Mr. Linden. "I like to be laughed at.

But Miss Faith--just suppose for a moment that there were tears in your eyes,--what could keep them from falling?"

Faith's eyes opened and she took a little time to consider this proposition.

"If I were very determined, I think I could do it," she said.

"Suppose they got so far as the tip ends of your eye lashes?" he said, with a little play of the lips.

"They must come down, I am afraid," said Faith looking and wondering.

"But why?"

"Because my determination couldn't reach them there, I suppose," she said in unmitigated wonder. "There would be nothing to keep them up."

"Unphilosophic!" he said gravely,--"I shall have to teach you both why your tears fall, and why they don't."

She smiled, as very willing to be taught, but with a face that looked as if it had had few to experiment upon either way.

"I will try and not tire you out," Mr. Linden said, "but different things go on pleasantly together. Some I should like to have you study for me when I am away, some directly with me. And--"

"And what, sir?" she said with the gentle intonation of one to whose ear every word is pleasant.

"How much time have you in the course of the day that can and ought to be spent upon all these matters--without disturbing Shakspeare and his companions?"

"I will _make_ time, Mr. Linden, if I don't find it. I have a good deal. You won't tire me."

"You must not make time out of strength. Will you write me a French exercise every day, among other things? Yes Cindy," he said--"I understand,"--apparently quite aware that Faith did not.

"I will try," said Faith, with a colour again that was not of _French_ growth.

"Well baint you comin'?" said Cindy, who stood still as if she liked the prospect before her.

"Yes, but I can find my own way," said Mr. Linden; at which gentle hint Cindy vanished. And Faith sprang up.

"Teaching all day," she said, "and no tea either!"--And she was about to run off, then paused to say,

"That is all, Mr. Linden?--do you want to say anything more?"

"It was not tea, Miss Faith,--Reuben is at the door. Will you see him?

Shall I bring him here or will you go there?"

"I will go there," said Faith hurriedly. But Mr. Linden followed her.

"Reuben," he said, "Miss Faith will hear you--and I am ready to answer for your word with my own;"--then he went back into the sitting room and closed the door.

But those words seemed to touch at least one sore spot in the boy's heart--he had to struggle with himself a moment before he could speak.

Then it was low and humbly.

"Miss Faith--I don't know just what Phil has said about me,--I can't find out. But whatever it is there isn't one word of it true. I never said one word about you, Miss Faith, that I wouldn't say to you, just the same!" And Reuben looked as if he would have confronted the whole world on that point.

"I am quite sure of it, Reuben," Faith said very gently. "I didn't need you to come and tell me so."

He looked up at her with both gladness and thanks in his eyes.

"I shouldn't have troubled you with my trouble at all, Miss Faith--only he said you were displeased with me--and I was afraid it might be true."

"Who said I was displeased with you?"

An involuntary glance of Reuben's eye towards the closed door, seemed to say he did not want his words to go far.