"Does not Mrs. Stoutenburgh like them?" said the doctor, as he placed a chair for her in the best position left for seeing.
"Thank you," said she laughing. "I came here to be seen this evening. And so ought some other people. How much do you pay for the monopoly, doctor?"
"I really don't know!" said Dr. Harrison with a very slight rise of his handsome eyebrows. "I am in Pattaquasset—which is to me a region of uncertainties. You will know better than I, Mrs. Stoutenburgh."
"Well," said Mrs. Stoutenburgh with a wicked look at the doctor for his sole benefit,—"speaking of Rhododendrons, which you've seen often enough before,—don't you admire this—which you have not seen before?" and she touched Faith's holly leaves with the tip of her little glove. "I should think it must stir what Mr. Linden calls your 'nerves of pleasant sensation'."
"I am honoured by your estimation," said the doctor laughing slightly. "Miss Derrick's taste is matchless. It is an act of benevolence for her to wear flowers."
Faith's very brow crimsoned, till she bent it from view as much as she could. In all her truth she could not rise up there and confess that her skill was not the skill to be commended. She wanted a shield then.
"Don't flatter yourself that you are an object of charity," said Mrs.
Stoutenburgh turning over another leaf to give Faith employment.
"They're talking of games in the other room, dear," she added in a
gentle voice,—"may I tell Mrs. Somers you will play too?"
"Yes ma'am, certainly!"
"They're not ready yet—sit still and enjoy your prints—I'll see what they are about." And the lady left the room. Dr. Harrison sought some particularly fine specimens and engaged Faith in talk about them and their localities and habits, till her self-possession was restored.
"Have you heard the news about Mr. Linden?" he asked with most nonchalant carelessness.