Say and Seal, Volume I. Warner Susan

I don't know sir—and I don't believe I ever did know since she was big enough to run about," said Mrs. Derrick, her mind still dwelling upon the house.

      "Miss Faith, my question stands transferred to you."

      "Why you know," said Faith, intent upon the motions of her needle,—"I might require to mend in one day what would last me to wear a good many—and I do."

      "But,

         'The day is done—and the darkness   Falls from the wing of night.'"

      "I never mend stockings till then," said Faith smiling over her work."Are Sam's apples good?"

      "By reputation."

      "I thought you were trying them! Why you asked me for a knife, Mr.Linden—and I brought it."

      "I'm sure I gave you an apple. Perhaps you thought it was a ball of darning cotton."

      "No, I didn't," said Faith laughing. "But what use is my apple to your knife, Mr. Linden?"

      "Not much—it has served the purposes of trade."

      "But what is the purpose of trade, Mr. Linden, if the articles aren't wanted?"

      "I see you are dissatisfied with your bargain," he said. "Well, I will be generous—you shall have the knife too;" and Mr. Linden walked away from the table and went upstairs.

      The parlour was very still after that. Faith's needle, indeed, worked with more zeal than ever, but Mrs. Derrick rolled up her knitting and put it in her basket, sighing a little as she did so: then sat and thought.

      "Faith, child," she said after a long pause, "do you think the Squire would ever take our house?"

      Faith hesitated, and the answer when it came was not satisfactory.

      "I don't know, mother."

      Mrs. Derrick sighed again, and leaned back in her chair, and rocked; the rockers creaking in rather doleful sympathy with her thoughts. Then an owl on a tree before the door hooted at the world generally, though Mrs. Derrick evidently thought his remarks personal.

      "I can't think why he should do that to-night, of all nights in the year!" she said, sitting straight up in her chair. "It never did mean good. Faith—what should we do if he did?"—this time she meant the Squire, not the owl.

      "Mother!"—said Faith, and then she spoke in her usual tone.—"We'd find a way."

      "Well!—" said Mrs. Derrick, rocking back and forth. Then she startedup. "We've got to have biscuits for breakfast, whether or no! It's goodI remembered 'em!" And she hurried out of the room, coming back to kissFaith and say,

      "Don't fret, pretty child, whatever happens. Go to bed and to sleep,—I'll make the biscuit." And alert and busy she left the parlour.

      Faith's sleep was quiet, but not unbroken. For at that time when all well-disposed people, young or old, are generally asleep (in such a well-ordered community as Pattaquasset) it pleased the younger portion of said community to be awake. Yet they were well-disposed—and also ill! For repairing in a body to Mrs. Derrick's house they gave her nine cheers for her lodger,—thence departing to Squire Deacon's, they gave him as many groans as he could reasonably want for himself. After which the younger part of the community retired in triumph.

      It was said, by one adventurous boy, that falling in with Mr. Simlins they impressed him—that his voice helped on the cheers, but not the groans: and indeed the whole story needs confirmation.

      Faith heard the groans but faintly, owing to the distance, but the cheers were tremendous.

      It is painful to add that Joe Deacon was vociferous in both parties.

      CHAPTER VII

      "I hope your rest was disturbed last night," said Faith rather gaily, as she came in to the breakfast-table with a plate of biscuits and set them down before Mr. Linden.

      "Thank you! you have reason to be quite satisfied in that respect."

      "But did you hear them after they left our house?"

      "I heard them—really or in imagination—all night, thank you again,Miss Faith—and am as sleepy this morning as you can desire."

      "It wasn't I," said Faith. "Now what notice, Mr. Linden, will you think it proper to take of such a proceeding?"

      "That was one thing which kept me awake."

      "But as you are sleepy now, I suppose the point is decided?"

      "You are as quick at conclusions as Johnny Fax," said Mr. Linden smiling, "who always supposes that when I am not using my pen myself I am quite ready to let him have it."

      "Does he get it?"

      "What should you advise?"

      "O Mr. Linden!" said Faith,—"I should advise you to do—just what you do!"

      "Unsound!" he said,—"I thought you were a better adviser. But about this matter of the boys—I shall probably read them a lecture, wherein I shall set forth the risk they run of getting sick by such exposure to the night air; also the danger I am in of being sent away from my present quarters, because ladies prefer sleep to disturbance. Having thus wrought up their feelings to the highest pitch, I shall give them a holiday and come home to dinner."

      Faith laughed her little low laugh of pleasure; at least it always sounded so. It might be pleasure at one thing or at another; but it was as round and sweet a tone of merry or happy acknowledgment, as is ever heard in this world of discordances.

      "But are you really sleepy, sir?" said Mrs. Derrick. "I'm so sorry! I thought they were doing nothing but good. I never once thought of their waking you up."

      Mr. Linden laughed too, a little.

      "I shall get waked up"—he said,—"in the course of the day. Unless somebody has drugged my coffee."

      "Judge Harrison was here this morning, Mr. Linden, with a message for you," said Faith. "Mother, will you tell Mr. Linden what Judge Harrison said?"

      "I'd rather hear you, child, by half," said her mother, with a smile whereon the house cast a little shadow. "Tell him yourself, Faith." And Mrs. Derrick sighed, and took her napkin and rubbed off a spot on the coffeepot.

      "Judge Harrison came—" said Faith, and paused.

      "And went away"—said Mr. Linden.

      "Yes," said Faith. "He stopped on his way somewhere, and came into the kitchen to talk to us. He said he would like, if you would like it, he would like to have a great exhibition of the boys—he knows about the school, he says, and there hasn't been such a school in Pattaquasset since he has been here himself; and he would like to shew it up to the whole town. So if Mr. Linden approved of it, Judge Harrison said, he would have a gathering of all the countryside in some nice place—the Judge has plenty of ground and can get anybody else's besides; and the boys should have a great examination, and after that there should be an entertainment under the trees, for boys and all. And he wanted mother to speak to Mr. Linden, and see whether he would like it. And mother wouldn't," said Faith as she finished.

      Mr. Linden raised his eyebrows slightly—then let them fall and likewise his eyes. Then sent his cup to be replenished, gravely remarking to Faith that if she had any drugs, she might put them in now!

      "What kind of drugs would you like, Mr. Linden?" said Faith.

      "Any that are deeply sedative."

      "Sedative?" said Faith, with that look which he often drew from her,—very earnest, half wistful, half sorrowful,—"I don't know what it means, Mr. Linden."

      "It means," said he, his face relaxing a little, "'such as diminish the physical energy, without destroying life,'—such in short, as might qualify a man for the situation of a tame monkey on a pole."

      Faith's look changed to a sort of indignant little glance, and her lips parted; but they closed again and her eyes went down to her plate.

      "What were you going to remark, Miss Faith?"

      Faith blushed a good deal, however the answer came