"Squire Deacon has been here talking to me," said Faith in a low tone.
"Well then you had company, I'm sure. What did he talk about? Come,
Crab!—get on, sir!"
"He says he is going away from Pattaquasset, and he lays it to me, mother," she said after some hesitancy again.
"What does he lay it to you, for?" said Mrs. Derrick. "I don't believe he's going away, to begin with."
"He wanted me to say something to bring him back again," said Faith lower yet.
"O is that all!" said Mrs. Derrick composedly. "I knew that gun was loaded, long ago. Well what's the harm if he did?—it's not dangerous."
"I'm sorry," said Faith. "But mother, do make Crab get on!—it's time."
"It's not late," said Mrs. Derrick. "And don't you fret about Sam Deacon, child,—he always was a little goose—till he got to be a big one; but you needn't think he'll ever shoot himself for love of you,—he loves himself better than that."
And at this point, Crab—roused by the thought of his own supper—set off at a good round trot which soon brought them home. There was nobody there, however, not even Cindy; so the need of haste did not seem to have been urgent. Faith soon had the kitchen fire in order, and her clams in the pot, and was for the next half hour thoroughly busy with them. Then she made herself ready for tea, and the mother and daughter sat together by the lamp, the one with her knitting the other with her book. But the extra half hour was already past.
"Faith," said Mrs. Derrick at last, "why wouldn't Mr. Linden do the other thing you asked him to?"