"A ball!"
"Yes," said Mr. Linden,—"gratifying one of my youthful tastes. Sam,
I'll lend you my hat."
"Why! what for, sir?" said Sam, a little confused and a good deal puzzled, while Reuben smiled.
"Just to save you from the headache while you stand there in the sun," said Mr. Linden, tying the ends of his ribband together. "It's a man's hat, Sam—you need not be afraid of it. That's a good lesson in whistling!" he said, looking up into the tree over his head, where a robin had just come to exercise his powers. But as Mr. Linden's eyes came back from the robin they caught sight of Faith at her window, and instantly he was on his feet and made her a most graceful and low reverence. Instinctively the two boys turned and followed suit—the one with his straw hat the other with his beaver.
Faith's contemplative quiet was broken up, and her face grew shy and flushed as she gave her tiny grave signs of recognition; but a soft "good morning" floated down to them, followed—nobody knows why—by a more particular "Good morning, Sam."
"Miss Faith!" said Sam affectingly, "are you always going to stay up stairs?"
"No—I am coming down presently. You are early to-day, Sam."
"Not earlier than I've been some other days, Miss Faith."
Faith nodded at him and left the window; threw round her the light shawl which she was expected to wear because she had been sick, rather than because the May air called for it, and prepared to go down. But in the second of time which all this took, she heard her name called from the orchard—not very loud but very distinct.
"Faith!"