"I never mend stockings till then," said Faith smiling over her work.
"Are Sam's apples good?"
"By reputation."
"I thought you were trying them! Why you asked me for a knife, Mr.
Linden—and I brought it."
"I'm sure I gave you an apple. Perhaps you thought it was a ball of darning cotton."
"No, I didn't," said Faith laughing. "But what use is my apple to your knife, Mr. Linden?"
"Not much—it has served the purposes of trade."
"But what is the purpose of trade, Mr. Linden, if the articles aren't wanted?"
"I see you are dissatisfied with your bargain," he said. "Well, I will be generous—you shall have the knife too;" and Mr. Linden walked away from the table and went upstairs.
The parlour was very still after that. Faith's needle, indeed, worked with more zeal than ever, but Mrs. Derrick rolled up her knitting and put it in her basket, sighing a little as she did so: then sat and thought.
"Faith, child," she said after a long pause, "do you think the Squire would ever take our house?"