"And what was that?"--Mr. Linden was as untireable as a minority juror.

"I said Reuben said she warn't what Joe said," Phil got out at last in a lowered tone.

"And what was _that?_"

"Well--" said Phil desperately--"Joe said she was--"

Mr. Linden waited. So did Phil.

"This is the house that Jack built," Mr. Linden remarked. "What did Joe say she was?"

The answer came in articulation pretty well smothered up.

"Joe said she was Mr. Linden's sweetheart."

"O!--" said Mr. Linden, with a tone Phil felt to the tips of his ears,--"that was it! I really did not know, Phil, that you and Joe took an interest in such matters. Have you had much experience?"

Phil shuffled and looked exceedingly embarra.s.sed, but words found none.

He had exhausted his stock, of more than words.

"Well!" said Mr. Linden,--"you will find, Phil, that it is generally safe to study arithmetic before you begin algebra. There's a little mistake here. Reuben did not drive _anybody_ down to Neanticut--Mrs.

Derrick drove the whole way. That explains his words. As for yours, Phil--I wish," said Mr. Linden, looking at him gravely, but gently too, "I wish I knew something you would like very much to have. Can you tell me?"

If ever in his life Phil Davids mentally stared, (physically, too) he did it now. 'Something he would like very much to have'? What could Mr.

Linden want to know _that_ for? In his confusion Phil didn't know himself. To take in Mr. Linden, all over, was all he was competent to.

"Well?" said his teacher with a smile--it was rather a faint one, for he was tired, but very pleasant still. "What is there, Phil?--I am in earnest."

"I'm sorry I said it, anyhow!" burst at last from the boy's reluctant lips. That seemed to be his ultimatum. He could see that his words gave pleasure, though they were not directly answered.

"I must send you away now," Mr. Linden said, taking his hand again. "I am not strong enough to talk any more. But Phil--if you will learn to speak the truth--so that at the end of six months you can truly say, 'I hate every false way'--I will give you then what you like,--you shall choose your own reward. I would give anything I have in the world if I could make you fear to displease G.o.d by telling a falsehood, as much as you fear to displease me by owning it!"

It was as much as Phil could do, to take his teacher's hand, and that was done more humbly than certainly any previous action of his life.

Speak he could not; but so far as Mr. Linden's influence and authority were concerned _that_ boy was conquered. Whatever he became in after times, and whatever his mates found him still,--and they were not open-mouthed in praise,--for his teacher that boy was a different boy.

On his way out of the house he chanced to pa.s.s Faith, and did so without a sign of recognition, giving her about as wide a berth as if she had been a ghost. At the door he met Dr. Harrison coming in; but the doctor perhaps did not recognize him. Once clear, Phil ran for it.

And at the stair-foot the doctor found Faith.

"Dr. Harrison," she said with grave simpleness, "if you will allow me, I should like to see you dress Mr. Linden's arm. If you go to Quilipeak there will be n.o.body to do it,--and I think I can learn. Mother is afraid, and it would be very disagreeable to her."

"And not to you?" said the doctor.

"Not so disagreeable. I think I can do it," she answered, meeting his look steadily.

"You must not!" said he. "_You_ were not made for such things. Could do it! I don't doubt you could do anything. But if I go, I will send Dr.

Limbre in my place. There is no need for _you_ to do disagreeable work.

Now it's pleasant to me!"

"Dr. Limbre I shouldn't like to have come into the house," said Faith.

"And you know he can't leave his own house now--he is sick. I will go up with you, if you please."

Dr. Harrison could but follow her, as she tripped up the stairs before him; but there is no reasonable doubt he would have sent her on some other errand if he could. Faith tapped at the door, and they entered the room together.

"How do you do?" said Dr. Harrison rather gravely, approaching the couch.

Now the fact was, that those two previous interviews had been both long and exciting; and the consequent prostration was greater than usual; so though Mr. Linden did take down the hand which covered his eyes, and did meet the doctor's look with his accustomed pleasantness, his words were few. Indeed he had rather the air of one whose mind has chosen a good opportunity to ride rampant over the prostrate flesh and blood, and who has about given up all attempts to hold the bridle. Whether Dr.

Harrison perceived as much, or whether there might be some other reason, his words were also few. He addressed himself seriously to work.

"Will you permit me to introduce an apprentice?" he said, in a more commonplace way than was usual for him, as he was removing Mr. Linden's wrapper from the arm. Faith had come quietly up to the head of the couch and was standing there.

"Is not that the doctor's prerogative?"

"Hum--" said the doctor doubtfully; but he did not explain himself further.

Faith had come close to the head of the couch, but stood a little back, so that Mr. Linden could not see whether she looked like fainting or not. There were no signs of that, for the lessening of colour in her cheeks, which was decided, kept company with a very clear and intent eye. One little caught breath he might hear, when the wounded arm was first laid bare; but not another. The doctor heard it too, for he looked up, but Faith was gravely and quietly busy with what she had come there to see; giving it precisely the same simplicity of attention that she brought to her physical geography or her French exercise; and that was entire. She did not shrink; she rather pressed forward and bent near, to acquaint herself perfectly with what was done; and once or twice asked a question as to the reason or the use of something. Dr.

Harrison glanced up at her the first time--it might have been with incipient impatience--or irony,--but if either, it disappeared. He answered her questions straightforward and sensibly, giving her, and with admirable precision, exactly the information she desired, and even more than absolutely that. For everything else, the work went on in silence. When the doctor however was standing at the table a moment, preparing his lint or something else, and Faith had followed him there and stood watching; he said to her over the table in a sotto voce aside--but with a sharp glance--

"Was the information true, that we received the other night?--under the lanterns?"

"What a singular question!" said Mr. Linden from his couch.

"Pourquoi?" said the doctor as simply as if the original words had been addressed to Mr. Linden himself. "Well, it may be a singular question, for it was singular information. Was it well-founded, Miss Derrick?"

"No--at a venture," said Mr. Linden, with just the sort of air with which a sick person puts in his word and a.s.sumes superior knowledge.

The doctor looked at one and at the other; Mr. Linden's face told him nothing, any more than his words; Faith, by this time, was covered with confusion. That at least it might be visible to only one person, she moved back to her former place.

"Were you behind us?" said the doctor;--"or were you French enough to come by invisibly?"

"Is that the last new method?" said Mr. Linden. "You have been in Paris since I was."

"Never got so far as that though, I am sorry to say," said the doctor coming back to the couch. "But after all, that was very vague information--it didn't tell one much--only I have a personal interest in the subject. But I am glad you spoke--the man that can tell the dream should be able to give the interpretation. What did it mean, Linden?"

"Behold a man of an enquiring turn of mind!" said Mr. Linden with the same half listless half amused air. "He asks for truth, and when that tarries demands interpretation."

"I don't know what sort of a man I behold!" said the doctor, moving his eyes with a double expression for an instant from Mr. Linden's arm to his face.

"I should think you were a German student in pursuit of the 'Idea'!"

said Mr. Linden taking a quiet survey of the doctor's face. "Have you completed the circle, or is there still hope the Idea may seize you?"

"The idea seized me a good while ago," said the doctor, with a most comical mock confessional look.

"Well then," said Mr. Linden in a sort of confidential tone, "what is your opinion upon the great German question--whether it is better to be One and Somewhat, or to be Nought and All?

"You see,"--said the doctor, standing back and suspending operations,--"_everybody_ can't be One and Somewhat!"

"Then you choose the comprehensive side--" said Mr. Linden. "That is without doubt the most difficult,--the One and Somewhat is called egotistical, but to be Nought and All!--one must be--what do you suppose?"

"A philanthropist, I should suppose!" the doctor answered, with a change of expression _not_ agreeable. And returning to his work, for awhile he behaved unusually like other people; not hurrying his work, but doing it with a grave steady attention to that and nothing else--answering Faith, and saying no more. Perhaps however he thought silence might be carried too far; or else had an unsatisfied mood upon him; for as he was finishing what he had to do, he looked up again to Faith and remarked,