"My dear, I shall have you turning into a moonbeam. Just imagine what it would cost me to call you 'pale Cynthia'!"
"You needn't imagine it, Endecott."
"Only so far as to prevent the reality. Do you know I have been afraid of this for some time."
"Of what?"
"Afraid that you were disregarding the bounds I have laid down for study and the sun for sleep."
"I didn't know you had laid down any bounds," she said gaily again—"and I never did mind the sun."
"Well won't you mind me?" said he smiling. "I have a right to expect that in study matters, you know."
"Don't try me—" said Faith, very winningly, much more than she knew. He stood looking at her, with the sweet unbent expression which was her special right.
"Faith, don't you mean to love to have me take care of you?"
That brought a change of look, and it was curious to see the ineffectual forces gather to veil what in spite of them wreathed in her smile and laid an additional roseleaf upon each cheek. The shy eyes retreated from view; then they were raised again as she touched his arm and said, with a demure softness, "What must I do, Endy?"