"What do you think of having lunch, and then going after flowers?"
"I consider that to be a prudent, bird-like suggestion. Do you expect me to cook this fish for you? or will you be content to take it home to your mother, and let us feast upon—
"'Herbs, and such like country messes,
Which neat-handed Phyllis dresses'?"
"Have you all the books in the world in your head?"—said Faith, laughing her own little laugh roundly. "How plain it is Mr. Linden has nothing to do to-day!—Would you like to help me to gather some sticks for a fire, sir? I think you had better have something on your hands."
"Do you?" he said lifting her out of the boat in his curiously quick, strong, light way,—"that was something on my hands—not much. What next?—do you say we are to play Ferdinand and Miranda?"
Faith's eye for an instant looked its old look, of grave, intelligent, doubtful questioning: but then she came back to Kildeer river.
"I haven't played that play yet," she said gaily; "but if you'll help me find some dry sticks—your reward shall be that you shall not have what you don't like! I can make a fire nicely here, Endecott; on this rock."
"Then it was not about them you were reading in that focus of sunbeams?"
"What?—" she said, looking.
"Once upon a time—" Mr. Linden said smiling,—"when you and Shakspeare got lost in the sunlight, and wandered about without in the least knowing where you were."