"You look as if you had been teaching all day--or taught, which is but another branch. What did my boys say to you?"

"I think they thought they were saying to you, Mr. Linden,--they behaved so well."

He smiled.

"I don't believe even your conjuring powers could bring about such a hallucination, Miss Faith.--What a day it has been! Look at that sunlight and think of the city that hath 'no need of the sun'!"

She looked where he bade her, but the contrast was a little too strong just then with the earth that had so much 'need' of it! Only the extreme gravity of her face however indicated anything of the struggle going on. Her eye did not move,--nor eyelid.

"_That_ is the only rest we must wait 'for,'" Mr. Linden said. "That 'remaineth.'"

Faith answered nothing. But after a little while the shadow of that sunlight pa.s.sed away from her face, and she turned to the couch again and asked with her former gentle expression,

"Will you have tea up here, Mr. Linden?"

"I'm afraid I must," he said, looking up at her with eyes that rather questioned than answered.

"Does mother know what you would like to have?"

"Miss Faith--I wish you would tell me just what is troubling you."

The question flushed her a little, and for a moment her face was a quick play of light and shade; then she said,

"It troubled me not to see you looking better."

He took the force of her words, though he answered lightly.

"I suppose I do look rather frightful! But Miss Faith, I hope to get over that in a few days--you must try and brace up your nerves, because if you cannot bear the sight of me I shall have to deny myself the sight of you."

"Don't do that," she said, the light coming into her eye and voice as if by an actual sunbeam. "Then it is true, what you wrote me last night, Mr. Linden?"

"Well!" he said--"I am not much in the habit of maintaining my own words,--however, in this case I am willing to admit them true. If it will be any relief to your mind, Miss Faith, I will promise to remain in seclusion until you say I am fit to be seen down stairs."

The answer to that was only a rosy little smile, like the sunlight promise of fair weather on the last clouds that float over the horizon.

But perhaps his words had brought her mind back to the question of supper for she asked again,

"What are you to have for tea to-night, Mr. Linden?"

"May I take a great liberty?" he said with a look as grave as before.

"I don't know how you can,"--she said and with eyes somewhat surprised, that said in their own way it was impossible.

A little smile--which she scarce saw--came first, and then her hand was brought to his lips. But it was done too gravely and gently to startle even her.

"Now you must go and rest," Mr. Linden said. "I want nothing for tea that shall cost one extra step."

Faith went about as silently and demurely as a cat that has had her ears boxed and been sent out of the dairy. Only in this case she went _to_ her dairy; from whence in due time she emerged with cream and b.u.t.ter and made her appearance in the kitchen.

"Well _child!_" said Mrs. Derrick. "When did you get home? and what did you do with yourself? I've looked and looked for you till I was tired, and if you'd staid five minutes more I should have run all over town after you."

"Why mother!" said Faith, "I was in my own room for a good while. I got home in usual time."

"Well!"--said her mother, "I hope next time you'll say as much--that's all. Do you know we've got company, Faith?"

"Who, mother?--O I've seen Mr. Linden."

"I meant him," said Mrs. Derrick. "I'm sure the house seems as if it had twice as many in it since he came."

"He ought to have tea, now, mother. Isn't Cindy home yet?"

"No, but that's no matter--I'll take it up in two minutes. Where's the teapot--"

"I think, mother," said Faith as she was adding the last touches to the tray which was to go up stairs,--"I must have put Mr. Linden in mind of his sister, or somebody, this afternoon. I am afraid he misses them now."

"What do you mean by somebody?" said Mrs. Derrick.

"Some of his own family, I mean. I thought so."

"I don't believe you ever put anybody in mind of anybody else," said Mrs. Derrick confidently. "What made you think so, child?"

"Something made me think so,"--said Faith rather abstractly. "Now mother--it is ready, and I'll take it up stairs if you'll take it then."

"I guess I'm up to as much as taking it all the way," said her mother, lifting the tray. "I'll be down presently, dear,--you must want _your_ tea." And up stairs she went.

Reuben came to stay all night, so the ladies had only to take their own much needed sleep, in peace; and a note of information was left at Dr.

Harrison's door next morning, some time before that gentleman was awake.

CHAPTER XXI.

"I know what I have to do to-day," said Faith the next morning. "Mr.

Skip has got the box made, mother, and now I want the stuff to cover it."

"Well that's ready--in my pantry, child."

Whereupon Reuben offered his services; but all that was given him to do was to carry up Mr. Linden's breakfast. This was hardly well over when Dr. Harrison came. He was shewn into the sitting-room, just as Faith with her arms full of brown moreen came into it also from the pantry.

The doctor was not going to lose a shake of the hand, and waited for the brown moreen to be deposited on the floor accordingly.

"You are looking more like yourself to-day," he said.

"I will call mother," said Faith. Which she did, leaving the doctor in company with the brown moreen.

"Mrs. Derrick," said he, speaking by no means without a purpose, "I have cause of complaint against you! What have you done to allure my patient down here against orders?"