"Mother! Is he back again?—What for?"
"Settle here and live, I suppose. He's married—that's one thing. What was he here for?—why the old story, Faith,—he wants the place." And Mrs. Derrick's eyes looked as if she wanted it too.
"Does he want it very much, mother?"
"Means to have it, child—and I don't feel as if I could live in any other house in Pattaquasset. So I thought maybe Mr. Stoutenburgh would make him hold off till next year, Faith," said Mrs. Derrick, a little smile coming back to her lips. "I guess I'll go up again after tea."
Faith coaxed her mother into the other room and gave her her tea daintily; revolving in her mind the while many things. When tea was over and Mrs. Derrick was again bent upon business, Faith ventured a question. "Mother, what do you suppose Squire Stoutenburgh can do to help us?"
"I can't tell, child,—he might talk Sam Deacon into letting us keep the house, at least. We've got to live somewhere, you know, Faith. It's no sort of use for me to talk to him,—he's as stiff as a crab tree—and I aint. I think I'll try."
"To-night, mother?"
"I thought I would."
Faith hesitated, putting the cups together. "Mother, I'll go. I dare say I shall do as well."
"I'm afraid you're tired too, pretty child," said Mrs. Derrick, but with evident relief at the very idea.