Mr. Simlins turned down a corner of the leaf and laid the book, still open, on the table. Then looked at Mr. Linden with a mixture of pleasure and humour in his eyes. "Are you any nearer bein' a minister than you was a year ago?"
"Nearer in one way. But I cannot lay claim to the title you gave me for another year yet, Mr. Simlins."
"You're Say and Seal as much as ever. What more fixin' have you got to do?"
"A little finishing," said Mr. Linden with a smile.
And he got up and went for Faith's shawl and gloves which were on the table. Mr. Simlins watched the shawling and gloving with attention.
"You can tell Jem he won't be wanted again, Faith," he said. "I guess you'll see him at the gate." Mr. Linden smiled, but some other thought was on his mind,—the face that he turned to Mr. Simlins shewed concern that was both grave and kind.
"What can I do for you?" he said.
"This aint the prettiest place in Pattaquasset; but maybe you'll come and see me sometimes—till I can get out my self," Mr. Simlins said considerately.
"You may be sure I will. And will you let me pray with you now, before
I go?"
The farmer hesitated—or was silent—one instant, then with a sort of subdued abruptness said,