"Not at all—and besides I haven't any. But the ideal of Melancholy is about as much like the reality, as a picture of the Tragic Muse is like the fifth act of a tragedy."
That Faith did not know the meaning of tragedy, was a fact which she wisely and self-denyingly kept to herself, and for the present turned her attention to supplying her mother with a fresh waffle. And so with various bits of talk, tea came to an end, and Mrs. Derrick was called out to discuss some important matter with Mr. Skip.
"Mother," said Faith finding her opportunity, "I asked Mr. Linden, and he will do that."—A little shadow came over Mrs. Derrick's face.
"Well, child?" she said gently.
"Mother—I have asked him,—will you speak to Mr. Skip and Cindy?"
"I can't child—" said her mother, with the same tone and look. "I'll go in myself, but I can't try to do any more."
"Dear mother—" said Faith,—"I wish you would!"
Her mother turned and kissed her, but the difficulty was clearly not one to be overcome. The whole subject seemed to bring up some painful association.
"He'll call them in himself, if you ask him, child."
"Would it be right to ask him, mother?"