"Do you think the earth-world is like that?" said Faith.
"Don't you?"
"I don't know what it is like."
"If you will permit me to say so, I hope you never will—any further than as you choose to make this a miniature of that. And things in miniature—are much less," said the doctor abstractedly, looking at the Anemone. "Would you like to have this little ocean box in your house for awhile, Miss Faith?—it could just as well as not. Indeed it would be rather a benefit to me."
"O I should like it!" said Faith. "But I should be afraid of its getting broken, Dr. Harrison."
"I am not afraid," said he. "It would be in less danger there than here. As I told you, Sophy neither knows nor cares anything about such things; and she would either kill them with kindness or forget them altogether—most likely do both alternately. But with you they would be safe, for the simple reason that you love them."
The sunbeams had left the window before Faith was at all aware of the passing away of the afternoon. And then, for once to her joy, Miss Harrison could not be found. They set out to walk home, and had got half way when a little rush of footsteps came up behind them, and Reuben and Sam passed by, arm in arm; or rather half by—then paused and said good evening.
"O have you seen Mr. Linden to-night, Dr. Harrison?" said Sam.
"Good evening, sir!" said the doctor. "Have I the honour of knowing you?"
"I should think you might," said Sam, in a tone not at all displeased—"but it don't signify much. Have you seen him to-night, doctor?"