"Yes, ma'am," Reuben answered as before.
"But not so well as last night? What's the matter, Reuben?"
"Didn't you hear what they did last night, ma'am?"
"To be sure I did, but what has made you feel worse to-day?"
"Why you know, ma'am," said Reuben, "last night I forgot all about everybody but Mr. Linden. But oh Miss Faith! I just wish you could have been in school to-day for one minute!—when Mr. Linden came in! You see," said Reuben, excitement conquering reserve, "the boys were all there—there wasn't one of 'em late, and every one had a sprig of basswood in his hat and in his buttonhole. And we all kept our hats on till he got in, and stood up to meet him (though that we do always) and then we took off our hats together and gave him such a shout!—You know, Miss Faith," added Reuben with a smile both expressive and sweet, "basswood's a kind of linden."
"And what did Mr. Linden do?" said Faith with a smile of her own that very well reflected Reuben's.
"He didn't say much," said Reuben,—"he looked a good deal."
"Well, you foolish boy," said Faith gently, "don't you feel well now, after all that? What's the matter?"
A heavy, shoe-leathery step came down the street—it was Squire Deacon. Reuben knew who it was before the Squire came near, for he flushed up, and for a moment stood with his back resolutely turned towards the gate; then with an air as resolute, but different, he turned round and bowed as courteously as he knew how—far more so than the Squire did to him; for the combination of Faith and Reuben did not seem to fall pleasantly upon Squire Deacon's organs of vision; nor indeed could he have quite forgotten last night.
"Reuben, come in," said Faith touching his shoulder and smiling,—"I want to speak to you. But first answer my question—why don't you feel quite well now? You ought, Reuben."