"You never can, Faith!" cried the young man, impetuously. "I care as a man cares! Let me love you! care a little for me, and let it grow to more!"
Men, till something is accorded, are willing to take so little! And then the little must become so entire!
"Well, I declare!" exclaimed Mis' Battis, as Faith came in. "Who'd a thought o' seein' you home to tea! I s'pose you ain't had none?"
"Yes—no. That is, I don't want any. Where is my mother?"
"She and your pa's gone down to Dr. Wasgatt's. I knew 'twould be contrary to the thirty-nine articles that they should get away from there without their suppers, and so I let the fire right down, and blacked the stove."
"Never mind," said Faith, abstractedly. "I don't feel hungry." And she went away, upstairs.
"'M!" said Mis 'Battis, significantly, to herself, running a released knitting needle through her hair, "don't tell me! I've been through the mill!"
Half an hour after, she came up to Faith's door.
"The minister's downstairs," said she. "Hope to goodness, he's had his supper!"
"Oh, if I dared!" thought Faith; and her heart throbbed tumultuously. "Why can't there be somebody to tell me what I ought to do?"