"It's such a beautiful thing to know, just by believing!" Reuben said,—"don't you think so, Miss Faith? And then whatever people say or do, and if we can't find a word to answer them, we know down in our hearts, that the Bible is true. And so 'by faith we stand.'"
"But we ought to find words to answer them, Reuben—or else, though we stand, they fall!"
"Yes, ma'am—sometimes," Reuben said rather hesitatingly. "Only—I've heard Mr. Linden say that a Christian must take care of his own standing first, and do nothing to shake that; or else he may have his own light blown out while he's trying to light other people's. You know, Miss Faith, the five wise virgins would not give their oil to the others. I've heard Mr. Linden talk about it very often," Reuben added softly, as if he wanted to screen himself from the charge of presumption.
If Faith was bringing charges, it was against herself, for she sat very silent and thoughtful, and weary also; for when for the fifth or sixth time Reuben brought his eyes from the fire to her face he saw that she had fallen asleep.
Mr. Linden's letters about this time told two or three things, among the rest that he might soon be looked for instead of letters. Moreover that he felt sure he was wanted—and further, that Faith's letters had changed. These two last things were not said in words, but Faith read them none the less surely—read thus first that her letters really were different. Just what cause Mr. Linden assigned to himself, she did not know, nor whether he had fixed upon any; but it was clear that nothing but the fact that his freedom was so close at hand, kept him from freeing himself at once and coming to Pattaquasset. And second only to Faith did Mrs. Derrick long for his appearance.
She had heard bits of the doctor's talk from time to time, but for a while with some doubt of their meaning,—as whether he was reporting what other people said, or whether she had heard him correctly. But when by degrees the goodness of her hearing attested itself, then Mrs. Derrick's indignation began to follow suit. The doctor's object she did not at first guess (perhaps made it, if possible, worse than it was) but that made little difference.
On this particular afternoon, when Faith woke up she found Reuben gone and her mother keeping watch. The fair look that always greeted Mrs. Derrick was given her, but otherwise the face she was studying was not satisfactory. The roundness of the cheek was much lessened, the colour was gone, and the lines of expression were weary though she had slept. Or rather perhaps they were too gravely drawn.
"Faith," said her mother decisively, "you want your tea. Can you eat a broiled pigeon, if I broil it myself?"
"I can eat a piece of one, if you'll take the rest, mother," she said with a smile at her. "I eat a whole banana just before I went to sleep."
"Well this ain't the doctor's pigeon, so I guess it will be good," said Mrs. Derrick. "Sam Stoutenburgh brought it.—And I'm going to cook it here, pretty child, because I want to be here myself. I suppose the smoke won't trouble you if it goes up chimney?"