"Is that it?" said Mr. Linden—"I shall have to import a few. You give me a great deal of trouble, Miss Faith."
"I, Mr. Linden? I am very sorry! What have I done?"
"I don't know!—or at least but partially. There is Sam Stoutenburgh, making as much ado over his lessons as if his wits had forsaken him—which perhaps they have. There is Reuben Taylor—I don't know what is the matter with Reuben," he said, his tone changing, "but his last words to me were a very earnest entreaty that I would persuade you to see him for five minutes; and when I wanted to know why he did not prefer his own request, all I could get was that he was not sure you would let him. Which gave me very little clue to the sorrowful face he has worn all day."
Once more, and this time with the keen tinge of pain, the blood rushed in a flood to Faith's cheek and brow; and for a second she put her hands to her face as if she would hide it. But she put them down and looked up frankly to Mr. Linden.
"I am sure Reuben Taylor has done no wrong!" she said. "You may tell him so, Mr. Linden."
"Wrong!" he said—"to you?"—and the tone was one Faith did not know. Then with a manner that was like enough to the flinging of the little stone into Kildeer river, he added, "Yes, I will tell him. Miss Faith, I shall be down again directly, and then will you let me see that book?" And he passed on upstairs.
The book was on the table in the parlour when he came down, but Faith met him standing. With a little timid anxiousness, she said,
"I have done wrong now. Mr. Linden, I said I was sure Reuben had not done any, and you will not speak to him as if he had? Please don't speak to him at all—I will see him myself."
The answering smile broke through some little cloud of feeling, in spite of him.
"You need not fear," he said,—"I know Reuben Taylor. But you have got something else to think of just now." Then placing a chair for her at the table, Mr. Linden took up the little book and began his work of examination. And perhaps it is not too much to say that even Dr. Harrison might have learned somewhat from the way it was carried on. A skilful and kind way of finding out what she did not know, from what she did; initiation and examining so carried on together that Faith found herself knowing where she thought she was ignorant,—more still, perhaps, a kind of separate decision what she ought to learn, and how; which saved her the trouble of acknowledging and confessing; and all as gently done as if he had been dealing with some delicate winged creature, whose downy plumage would come off with a touch,—such was the threatened examination. She might flutter a little under his hand, but the soft wings were unhurt.