"Now you must go and rest," Mr. Linden said. "I want nothing for tea that shall cost one extra step."
Faith went about as silently and demurely as a cat that has had her ears boxed and been sent out of the dairy. Only in this case she went to her dairy; from whence in due time she emerged with cream and butter and made her appearance in the kitchen.
"Well child!" said Mrs. Derrick. "When did you get home? and what did you do with yourself? I've looked and looked for you till I was tired, and if you'd staid five minutes more I should have run all over town after you."
"Why mother!" said Faith, "I was in my own room for a good while. I got home in usual time."
"Well!"—said her mother, "I hope next time you'll say as much—that's all. Do you know we've got company, Faith?"
"Who, mother?—O I've seen Mr. Linden."
"I meant him," said Mrs. Derrick. "I'm sure the house seems as if it had twice as many in it since he came."
"He ought to have tea, now, mother. Isn't Cindy home yet?"
"No, but that's no matter—I'll take it up in two minutes. Where's the teapot—"
"I think, mother," said Faith as she was adding the last touches to the tray which was to go up stairs,—"I must have put Mr. Linden in mind of his sister, or somebody, this afternoon. I am afraid he misses them now."