This was an irresistible question. Faith's own face came back, and during the rest of supper-time she was like herself, only with a shade more than was usual upon her brow and manner.
The short September day had little twilight to lengthen it out. The cool western horizon still outshone the setting stars with its clear light, but in the east and overhead others came out, 'silently, one by one.' Mr. Linden went to take his evening walk, Faith to light the lamp in the parlour, watched and gazed at by her mother the while.
"Child," said Mrs. Derrick, "what makes you stay upstairs so? I never thought of it till I went to call you to see Reuben—but seems to me you are up there a great deal."
Faith smiled a little and also looked grave, as she was putting on the shade of the lamp.
"Yes, mother"—she said,—"I am."
"What for, pretty child?" said her mother fondly.
Faith was pretty, in the look with which she answered this appeal. Her smile dropped its gravity, and only love came in to make the confession.
"Mother, I am trying to learn. I want to be wiser."
"Learn!" said Mrs. Derrick in utter astonishment, and rousing out of her resting position. "Trying to learn, child?"
"Yes, mother—what about it? I don't know anything; and I want to know—a great deal!"