Mr. Armstrong walked down and met her midway in the field.
"How beautiful mere simpleness and quiet are," said Faith. "The cool look of trees and grass, and the stillness of this evening time, are better even than flowers, and bright sunlight, and singing of birds!"
"'He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: He leadeth me beside the still waters: He restoreth my soul: He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for His name's sake.'"
They did not disturb the stillness by more words. They came up together, in the hush and shadow, to the pleasant doorstone, that offered its broad invitation to their entering feet, and where Aunt Faith at this moment stood, watching and awaiting them.
"Go into the blue bedroom, and lay off your things, child," she said, giving Faith a kiss of welcome, "and then come back and we'll have our tea."
Faith disappeared through passages and rooms beyond.
Aunt Henderson turned quickly to the minister.
"You're her spiritual adviser, ain't you?" she asked, abruptly.
"I ought to be," answered Mr. Armstrong.
"Why don't you advise her, then?"