Faith stooped down to be nearer the level of the red ribband.
"You did bravely, Johnny. And you got a book too. I guess Mr. Linden was pleased with you to-night," she added softly.
"O he's always pleased with me," said Johnny simply. "But I wasn't brave, ma'am,—I was frightened." Then in a lower tone, as if he were telling a great secret, Johnny added,
"I'm coming to you next Sunday if it's cold weather"—and looked up in her face to see the effect of this mysterious announcement.
"You, Johnny!" said Faith, with a flash of remembrance of the time she had last seen him, which made her almost sorrowful. "Well, dear—we'll do the best we can," she added in a tone which was sweet at least as tenderness could make it. The child looked at her a little wistfully.
"Mr. Linden says he don't think I'm big enough to keep warm out of doors any more," he said with childish inexplicitness.
"I don't think you are," said Faith. "Well, Johnny—you come to me next Sunday, and we'll try!"—And she gave him, what Sam Stoutenburgh would probably have mortgaged his life for,—a soft touch of her lips upon his cheek. And Sam Stoutenburgh was not far off.
"Miss Faith!" he said as she rose to her former position,—"stand out of the way, Johnny, there's a good boy!—mayn't I see you home to-night? Please don't refuse me everything!"
"There isn't room in the wagon, Sam," said Faith.
"Are you going to ride?" said Sam. "But I may go with you to the wagon?"