Whatever Reuben thought of the request, he said nothing, but obeyed her, bringing a foot cushion to her chair and bestowing himself upon it. Faith smiled at him as she spoke again, though there was an unwonted fire in her owe eyes; and the blood came fast now to her face.
"Reuben, I wanted to ask you what all that colour is in your cheeks for?"
Reuben hesitated—there seemed a stricture across his breast which made speaking hard work; but at last he said frankly, though in none of the clearest tones,
"Because I'm angry, Miss Faith—and hurt too."
Faith's next words fell like pearls—
"It isn't worth the while."
"No, Miss Faith," he answered without looking up.
"It's too much honour to something that doesn't deserve it,—and—Reuben—it's too little to something that does."
"O no, ma'am! it's not that!" Reuben said, raising his eyes to her face with the old earnest look. "But Miss Faith, there are some things he can't bear to hear said—and said so," he added a little lower, and looking down again. "And then—he's Dr. Harrison, and I'm only a poor boy and mayn't answer him—and that fretted me; and it isn't the first time, neither," Reuben said, as if he were making a clean breast of it. "Oh Miss Faith! I'd rather have had him knock me down, than speak such words!" Tears were getting the upper hand in the boy's voice.
"Dear Reuben," said Faith, very quietly, though her cheeks were two carnations,—"what I am most sorry for is Dr. Harrison."