"I don't want you to go, then," said Faith laughing, "for I mean that you shall come home to tea with me. Dr. Harrison, I will invite you too," she said turning her bright face towards him. "I believe—there are muffins to-night."
"Miss Faith,"—said the doctor,—"you are an angel!"
"What is the connexion between that and muffins?" said Faith merrily, for Reuben was at her side and she felt free.
"You mistake the connexion," said the doctor gravely. "Angels are supposed to be impartial in their attentions to the human race, and not swayed by such curious—and of course arrogant—considerations as move the lower herd of mortals. To an immaterial creature, how can the height of a door be material!"
"But I think you are mistaken," said Faith gently. "I don't believe any creatures mind more what they find inside the door."
"What did you find inside that door?" said the doctor.
Faith hesitated. "Do you know to-morrow is Thanksgiving day, Dr.
Harrison?"
"I am not quite sure that I ought to say I know it—though my father did read the proclamation. I suppose I know it now."
"I found inside of that door some people who could not make pumpkin pies—and Reuben and I have been carrying them one of mother's."
"What a day they will have of it!" said the doctor,—"if Mrs. Derrick's pies are made in the same place as her muffins. But can you find nothing better to do than running round the country to supply the people that haven't pies?"