"She lives down to our house."
"Where's that?"
"Down the woody road—" said the boy,—"next after you come to Capting
Samp's blackberry field. There's sunflowers in front."
"Then you are Mrs. Seacomb's boy? Very well," said Faith, letting him go. "Mr. Linden, there is an invitation for you."
"Is there a carriage road into Sweden? or do we walk?" he replied.
"Sweden?"—said Faith,—"it is in the woods, two or three miles from here. A woman lives there—the widow of a man that used to sail with my father. My father was captain of a ship, Mr. Linden. Mr. Seacomb was one of his mates, and very fond of him; and we go to see Mrs. Seacomb once in a while. I don't think, perhaps, you would like it. It's a pretty ride."
"That is a kind of ride I do like."
"But I don't know whether you would like it all. If you say so, I will have up the wagon."
"Thank you—that I should not like. I prefer to have it up myself,
Miss Faith—if you will have up your bonnet."
Faith's face gave way at that, and the bonnet and the wagon were up accordingly.