"I'm sure I'm glad, pretty child," said her mother, bending down to kiss her. "I think sometimes you think too much. But you look just like a baby, for all that. I'm sure I shall always love Mr. Linden for pleasing you so much," said Mrs. Derrick stroking Faith's hair, "even though he does please himself too."
Faith secured that hand again and held them both wrapped round her; but further words for a moment spoke not.
"I shall come home as early as I can," she said;—"mother, time enough to do everything for breakfast."
"You sha'n't do a thing, child," said her mother. "You may come home as early as you like, but I'm going to keep you out of the works. I feel so grand when you're up stairs studying—you can't think! You wouldn't know me, Faith."
Faith laughed, the laugh that was music to Mrs. Derrick's ears, and indeed would have been to any, and held the hands closer.
"I feel a little grand too,"—she said,—"sometimes in a way—"
This did not seem to be one of the times, or else feeling grand had a soporific effect; for Faith's eyelids presently drooped, and when Dr. Harrison came to the house and for some time before, she was fast asleep on her mother's lap.
"Psyche!"—exclaimed Dr. Harrison as he discerned by the firelight the state of the case. Mrs. Derrick gave him a little reproving glance for speaking so loud, but other reply made none, save a low-spoken polite offer of a chair.
"Thank you—I am going up to see Mr. Linden. Miss Derrick was so good as to promise she would go with me to see my sister this evening. In these circumstances,"—said Dr. Harrison in his softest voice—"do you think it would be presumption to wake her up?"
"Well go up, then," said Mrs. Derrick, "and I'll wake her up before you come down."