"If what? May I not know the difficulty?"
"If you really cared about it."
"I do care about it. You mistake me when you think that. But you must not think about anything now. Did you know I carried off your rosebud the other night?"
"Yes."
It was impossible to tell from the doctor's accent how he viewed the transaction, and equally impossible from Faith's answer to tell what she thought of it. Extremes meet—as Mr. Linden had once remarked.
"I'll endeavour to atone for that presumption to-morrow," said he rising, for Mrs. Derrick now entered the room. To her Dr. Harrison repeated his orders and counsels, and to Faith's relief took himself away. Her mother came up to the easy-chair with a smothered sigh on her lips, and laid her gentle hand on Faith's forehead and wrist.
"Child," she said, "has that man talked you into a fever again? I've a great mind not to let him come any more—I guess I could cure you better myself. If you'd send word to somebody else, Faith, we'd have you well in no time."
"I haven't heard from him to-night, mother." Faith felt the little start of her mother's hand.
"Maybe he's coming then," said Mrs. Derrick,—"he might have meant to come yesterday and been hindered." Faith did not think that.
"We shall know," she said to her mother. "We have only to wait and be quiet." And she carried out both parts of her stated duty to perfection.