"I must let you go, child," said her mother,—"I couldn't refuse."
"And I am so glad to-morrow is Wednesday, for I can take you over," said Mr. Linden.
Wednesday afternoon was very fair, and after dinner Faith and all her needful baggage were bestowed in the little sleigh, and the journey began. Not very much of a journey indeed, unless compared with the length of day-light; but as fair and bright and pleasant as a journey could be. Full of talk of all sorts,—gliding on through the fading day and the falling night, until
——"the floor of heaven Was thick inlaid with patines of bright gold."
Very bright the stars were, very dark the sky, when Jerry's bells began to mingle with a crowd of others in the streets of Pequot. Faith had insisted that Mr. Linden should come in and have a cup of tea or coffee before he went back again; and this being a not unreasonable request, besides a pleasant one, she had her way.
Miss Danforth was in her room and could not see Mr. Linden. Faith with a kiss and a word established the little Frenchwoman to talk to him, obtaining leave to do what she pleased; though Madame Danforth managed to have her share in the hospitality; got out cups and saucers for Faith and Mr. Linden both on a little table by the fire,—her rolls and her butter; talking all the while to him; and took a minute to run down into the kitchen and see that Faith and the coffee-pot were getting on properly. And it may be said in passing that the result did credit to both. The coffee served to Mr. Linden was faultless. Madame Danforth however had hardly presented him his cup, when she was called off and her guests were left alone.
"Faith," said Mr. Linden, "you must not forget that you have something to do for me as well as for other people while you are here."
"I don't forget it. But what do you mean, Endecott?"
"To put it in the most effective way—I mean that you must take care of me!" he said smiling.
"I will. As good care as you would take of yourself."