"What I am puzzled about," said he smiling, "is, how you are to shew me the shore. Miss Danforth—why is that bread-plate so attractive to me, while I am like the reverse end of the magnet to it?"
"But my dear," said Mrs. Derrick, for the bread-plate was suggestive,—"ain't you going along with the Squire's party?"
"I said we would come after, mother."
"The Squire only said there was room on the shore," added Miss Danforth.
"Is the shore wide enough for us to drive down there? or must we walk?" asked Mr. Linden.
"But you'll eat supper with them, of course," said Mrs. Derrick.
"Of course, mother. The wagon must go, Mr. Linden. There's room enough for anything."
Mr. Linden made no comment upon that, and finished his tea in comparative silence. Then went forth, as was his custom, to the post-office, and—as was not his custom—returned very soon. Mrs. Derrick and Miss Danforth had gone out to see a neighbour, and Faith sat alone in the twilight parlour. It was very twilight there, but he walked in and stood waiting for his eyes to discover what there might be.
"There is nobody here but me, Mr. Linden," said a very soft and clear voice. "Do you want anything?"
"I wanted to see you—and am foiled by the darkness. Are you tired,
Miss Faith?"