"That will do," she said with voice and gesture,—"you may go back—scatter! and be boys again. Mr. Linden, what I complain of is, that you say you are on the Lord's side and that everybody else is not!"
His thoughts came back slowly, as from some far distant region,—he even turned to Faith and wheeled up a chair for her before he answered.
"No, Miss Essie—those last words I believe I never said. But the 'Lord knoweth them that are his'—let each one have answering knowledge for himself."
Miss Essie's look was not comfortable. She abandoned the point in hand, and swallowed her cold coffee.
"What are you talking about?" said Mrs. Stoutenburgh coming up to them. "What sort of a game was that, Miss Essie?"
"Nothing,"—said Miss Essie. "I said I would study Mr. Linden—and I have. I've found out two things about him."
"I wonder if he's been studying too!" said Mrs. Stoutenburgh.—"What are the two things? Miss Essie, your coffee's just as cold as Faith's ice is warm!—that comes of talking when you ought to be eating. Mr. Linden—just help Mr. Stoutenburgh with that little table, please—and I'll have the coffee-pot here and be comfortable."
"And I shall tell Miss Essie a story about fishes," said Mr. Linden as he obeyed.
Mrs. Stoutenburgh sat down behind her coffee-pot, while the gentlemen went back and forth between the two tables, bringing cups and cake and what else was needed for this "German cotillion," as Mr. Linden called it. During which interlude Miss Essie, after taking an observant view of Faith, gave her a significant private admonition, that "somebody" would not like her being there. Faith in vain endeavoured to get some light on this dark information; Miss Essie was startling but enigmatical, and suddenly turned from her and asked Mr. Linden "what was the story he had promised?"
"Not much of a story, though I called it one. It has to do with the way different races of fishes wear their bones."