But that brought out Faith's round low laugh, so incontrovertibly merry and musical that it changed Mr. Simlins' face on the instant. It came to an end almost as soon, but short as it was it was better than the warble of any nightingale; inasmuch as the music of a good sound human heart is worth all the birds in creation.

"When's Mr. Linden going to be down stairs, where a body can get sight of him?"

"The doctor says he mustn't go out for a long time yet," said Mrs.

Derrick. "When are you going to find the man that shot him?--that's what I want to know."

"When I get a composition from the only witness," Mr Simlins answered.

"And as the witness ain't particular about testifying, I'm afeard it'll be a spell o' time yet. It'll come out. _I _should think the fellow'd ha' made tracks, fust thing; but I 'aint heerd of any one's bein'

missin' from town,--except--"

Mr. Simlins suddenly started, stopped, and gazed at Faith with a most extraordinary expression.

"Did you look at my flowers, Mr. Simlins?" said Faith quite quietly, though without meeting his eye.

"I've seen nosegays afore," growled Mr. Simlins in a very uninterested manner. "I don't see as this is no more nor less than a nosegay. Do you s'pose I might go up and see somebody up stairs for two minutes, without creating any confusion?"

Mr. Simlins went up and shortly afterwards went away. But if Faith antic.i.p.ated a good long lesson that afternoon, to make up for the morning and afternoon in which she had had none--albeit the morning had been better than lessons--she was to be disappointed. Hardly was the dinner over, and the m.u.f.fins mixed which she was determined should make amends for Mr. Linden's poor breakfast, when Miss Harrison came; full of sorrow, and sympathy, and hope.

"Faith don't look a bit the worse, ma'am," she said to Mrs. Derrick.

"She couldn't look anyway but just so," her mother said with a fond glance.

"Why she _could_ look pale, but I don't see that she does even that;--unless, perhaps, just such a _tingy_ paleness as is rather becoming than otherwise. Dear Mrs. Derrick, I hope you have forgiven Julius?"

It was a sorrowful smile that met her words, and eyes that grew dim and looked away.

"I suppose I could forgive the whole world--since he didn't do any more harm," Mrs. Derrick said with her wonted gentleness. "But I wouldn't see her go with him again, Miss Sophy--if that's what you call forgiveness."

"Why not? Dear Mrs. Derrick!"--

"Why not?"--said the good lady--"why Faith's used to being taken care of, Miss Sophy--and I'm used to seeing it."

"My dear Mrs. Derrick!"--Miss Harrison exclaimed out of breath,--"do you think she was not taken care of? Julius knows his horses, and he is a capital hand with them; he says himself he thinks he should have brought them to, if that little wretch of a boy hadn't thrown op his nat before their eyes. No horses would stand that, you know. And the best man in the world, and the best driver, can't be _certain_ of his horses, Mrs. Derrick. Not take care of her!--"

"I don't mean to say that he didn't mean to!" said Mrs Derrick quietly, "but I don't think he knows how. You needn't look so, Miss Sophy--I'm not saying a word against your brother. But Faith's only part of the world to him--and she's the whole of it to me. He should have taken horses he _was_ sure of," said Mrs. Derrick with a little flush on her cheek.

"I don't know," said Miss Harrison softly, and looking at Faith,--"I don't know just what part of the world she is to him--but I think, and am very sure, he would have thrown himself oat rather than her. Can anybody do more? Can any _man_ do more, Mrs. Derrick?" she said smiling. "I know you are her mother; and though I am not her mother, I think of her just as you do."

"I can't say what any man can do," said Mrs. Derrick pleasantly,--"I havent tried many. And you can't tell how I feel, Miss Sophy it isn't cross, if it sounds so. How long has Dr. Harrison had those horses?"

"Why, not very long," said Miss Harrison,--"he hasn't been home long himself. But he's a good judge of horses," she said, a little less sure of her ground than in the former part of the conversation. Perhaps she was not sorry to have it interrupted.

"My dear Mrs. Derrick!" said Mr. Somers entering,--"I have come to congratulate you! Miss Harrison, I see, is before me in this pleasant--a--office. Miss Faith!--I am glad to see you looking so well after your overthrow." Mr. Somers went round shaking hands as he spoke.--"Mrs. Somers will be here presently to join me--she stopped a few minutes by the way. Mrs. Somers always has more business on hand than I can--a--keep up with. Mrs. Derrick, I have rejoiced with you, indeed, ma'am."

Somers had managed to keep up with her business and him too, for she came in before Mr. Somers had well taken the measure of his chair. She walked up to Faith and kissed her, with a sort of glad energy, gave her a comprehensive glance from head to foot, and then turned to Mrs.

Derrick with,

"There's nothing amiss with _her_, after all.--Sophy, what excuses have you brought in your bag?--it seems to be full."

"I wish you'd make some for Julius, aunt Ellen--I can see Mrs. Derrick has only half forgiven him."

"Has she got so far as that?" said Mrs. Somers.

"I don't know. Faith, _you_ might come and say something--you know if it isn't true; and Mrs. Derrick will hear you."

Faith was busy giving Mrs. Somers a chair, and certainly looked as if _she_ had n.o.body to forgive anything in the wide world.

"What do you want me to say, Sophy?"

"Why, that Julius wasn't to blame."

"I find it is still a disputed point, whether a man has a right to break his own neck," said Mrs. Somers. "I think he hasn't, myself, but most people don't agree with me. Mr. Somers thinks people may run away alone or together, just as they've a mind. I don't know whether it's the fees or the freedom that takes his fancy."

"I suppose, my dear," said Mr. Somers, "a man may lawfully set out to take a ride without intending to break his own neck, or anybody else's; and find it done at the end, without blame to himself. I never was, I hope, a promoter of--ha!--flighty marriages--to which you seem to allude."

"If he finds it done at the end, it isn't done very thoroughly," said Mrs. Somers. "But Pattaqua.s.set's growing up into a novel--last week furnished with a hero, and this week with a heroine,--the course of things can't run smooth now. So we may all look out for breakers--of horses, I hope, among other things."

"Oh aunt Ellen!"--was Miss Harrison's not gratified comment on this speech.

"I hope Mrs. Somers don't mean that we are to look out for breakers of hearts, among the other things," said Mr. Somers.

"Look out for them? to be sure!" said Miss Harrison;--"always and everywhere. What would the world be without them?"

"The world would not be heart-broken," said Mrs. Somers. "Faith--which of you came to first? who picked you up?"

"I don't know, Mrs. Somers. Sam Stoutenburgh was pa.s.sing just at the time and Dr. Harrison called him. I don't know who picked me up."

"Sam Stoutenburgh!" said Mrs. Somers,--"well, he's made, if n.o.body else is! He'll bless Julius for the rest of his life for giving him such a chance. Do you know how that boy watches you, Faith?--I mean to speak to Mr. Linden about it the very first time I see him."

Something in this speech called forth Faith's colour. She had spoken Sam's name herself with the simplest unchanging face; but now the flushes came and came abundantly.

"I don't know what good that would do, Mrs. Somers."

"Nor I--till I try," said the lady smiling at her. "But if the mere suggestion is so powerful, what may not the reality do? I'll say one thing for Mr. Linden--he makes all those boys come into church and get seated before the service begins--which n.o.body else ever did yet; if they ever tried. I was curious to see how it would be last Sunday when he wasn't there--but they were more punctual than ever. It's quite a comfort--if there's anything I do hate to see, it's a troop of men and boys outside the door when they ought to be in. What are you afraid he'll say to Sam, Faith?"

Faith's eyes were looking down. The question brought them up, and then her smile was as frank as her blushes had been. "I am not afraid he'll say anything, Mrs. Somers."

"I don't know why he should, my dear," said Mr. Somers. "We all like to use our eyes--you can't very well blame a boy."

"O Mr. Somers!" said his wife--with that air which a woman puts on when she says she believes, what she wouldn't for the world say _if_ she believed,--"of course you think that! Don't I know how you broke your heart after a green veil when you were in college? I don't think it's been right whole since. Now I have some feeling for Sam--or his future wife."

"Well Mrs. Derrick, what shall I tell Julius?" said Miss Harrison as she rose to go.

"Tell him?" said Mrs. Derrick enquiringly. "He wouldn't care to hear anything about me, if you did tell him, Miss Sophy."

"Well!--he'll have to come and talk to you himself," said Miss Harrison. "Faith, stand up for the right."

Faith went to the door with her and returned ushering in a new-comer, even the wife of Farmer Davids.