"He's a good one now—" said Mrs. Derrick with a smile that was even a little moved. "Don't you think so, doctor?"
"How dare you ask me that, Mrs. Derrick?" said the doctor with slow funny utterance. "But I will confess this,—I would rather have him preach to me than you."
"What sort of a bad reason have you got for that?" she said, looking at him.
"Miss Faith," said the doctor with the mock air of being in a dilemma,—"you are good at definitions, if I remember—what is the proper character of a bad reason!"
Faith looked up—he had never seen her look prettier, with a little hidden laughter both on and under her face and that colour she had brought down stairs with her. But her answer was demure enough.
"I suppose, sir, one that ought not to be a reason at all,—or one that is not reason enough."
"Do you consider it a bad reason for my not liking Mrs. Derrick's preaching, that I am afraid of her?"
"I shouldn't think it was reason enough," said Faith.
"Do you like preaching from people that you are afraid of?"
"Yes. At least I think I should. I don't know that I ever really was afraid of anybody."