The doctor puzzled over her answer and could make nothing of it.
"That is a Fuchsia—and that is another."
"How beautiful!—how beautiful. They are not sweet?"
"You cannot always have sweetness in connexion with everything else," he said with a slight emphasis. Faith's mind was too far away from the subject to catch his innuendo; unless other lips had spoken it.
"Mrs. Derrick," said the doctor, "I should like as a professional man, to know what portion of the wing of a robin this lady can manage for her breakfast?"
"Some days more and some days less," said Mrs. Derrick. "She was not very hungry this morning." (A mild statement of the case.)
"Some days less than the wing of a robin!" said the doctor. "The robin himself is a better feeder. Mrs. Derrick, what fancies does this bird live upon?"
The allusion drew a smile to Faith's face, which Mrs Derrick did not understand.
"She don't tell all her fancies,—she has seemed to live on tea and toast, for eatables."
The doctor smiled, and went back to Faith who was busy with the flowers; or as Mrs. Derrick said, seemed to be busy with them.