"Are you less well to-day?"—she said at last, in a voice that was little above a whisper, and stopped short of his name.
"Less well than yesterday at this time—not less well than this morning. A little more tired, perhaps." He spoke very quietly, answering her words and letting his hand and eye do the rest. "Has Mrs. Derrick a cradle in the house that would hold you?"
Perhaps Faith hardly heard the question, for she did not acknowledge it by so much as a smile. She wished to ask the further question, whether the assurance of last night was still true; but his appearance had driven such fear to her heart that she dared not ask it. She stood quite still a minute, but when she spoke her words were in the utmost clear sweetness of a woman's voice.
"Can I do something for you, Mr. Linden?"
"You are doing something for me now—it is so pleasant to see you. But Miss Faith, I shall have to reclaim some of your scholars; you have been teaching too much to-day."
"No—" she said,—"I have had no chance."
"No chance to teach too much? And why?"
"Why," she said—"I had only the usual hour this morning. I could do no more."
"You look as if you had been teaching all day—or taught, which is but another branch. What did my boys say to you?"
"I think they thought they were saying to you, Mr. Linden,—they behaved so well."