"Not quite, sir. Some people do not talk to me—and some I never stop to hear."
The doctor smiled a little, along with an acute look of approving intelligence.
"Well—do you happen to know what is said or thought of the people I was the means of putting into the post-office, half a year ago?"
"Not very well, sir. I haven't heard much said about them."
"As far as your knowledge goes, they seem to be doing their duty?"
"I make no complaint, sir."
Dr. Harrison glanced at Faith with a not pleased expression, and back again. "Does that mean that you have none to make, or that you will make none? I am asking, you surely must know, not officially nor judicially; but to gain private information which it is desirable I should have; and which I ask, and expect to receive, confidentially."
"Sir," Reuben said gravely, though with a manner perfectly respectful, "why do you ask me? The gentlemen of Pattaquasset should know more about their own post-office, than the poor fishers of Quapaw. There is a clannishness among poor people, sir,—if I had heard anything, I should not like to tell you."
The doctor got up and took his old position on the carpet rug, a very slight air of haughty displeasure mixing with his habitual indolent gracefulness.
"This is your knight, Miss Derrick! Apparently the proverb of 'friends' friends' does not hold good with him. When you are a little older, sir, you will know—if you grow correspondingly wiser—that the fishers of Quapaw or of any other point are precisely the people to know in such a matter what the gentlemen whom it more nearly concerns, cannot get at; and you have yourself given the reason."