"I know what you were, Miss Faith."
She smiled innocently and went on,
"All that just fitted me, as you meant it should, to take the good of the evening—and I had a great deal," she said gravely. "I saw almost everything you spoke of—and other things. I saw the chalk shells, Mr. Linden!—and the circulation in a frog's foot; and different prepared pieces of skin; and the moth's plumage! and the silver scale-armour of the Lepisma, as Dr. Harrison called it; and more."
"And with very great delight—as I knew you would. I am very glad!"
"Yes," said Faith—"I know a little better now how to understand some things you said the other day. I am very glad I went—only for one thing.—"
"What was that?"
"Dr. Harrison asked such a strange thing of me as we were walking home—at least it seems to me strange."
"May my judgment be brought to bear upon it?" Mr. Linden said after a moment's silence.
"Yes indeed," said Faith; "that was what I was going to ask. He wants me to go with him to see a woman, who is dying, he says, and miserable,—and he wants me to talk to her. He says he does not know how." And half modestly, half timidly, she added, "Is not that going out of my way?"
A quick, peculiar smile on Mr. Linden's face, was succeeded by a very deep gravity,—once or twice the lips parted, impulsively—then took their former firm set; and shading his eyes with his hand he looked into the fire in profound silence.