"You can't do it, Mr. Stoutenburgh!—not that way. Take care of me every other way;—but I'll not have—of that sort—a bit of help."—
The Squire looked at her with a mixture of amusement and perplexity.
"Pin to follow suit—" he said,—"but then I don't just know what Mr.
Linden would do in such a case! Can you tell me, Miss Faith?"
"It is no matter—it would not make any difference."
"What would not?" said the Squire innocently.
"Anything that he could do, sir;—so you have no chance." She coloured gloriously, but she smiled at him too with her last words.
"Well, Miss Faith," said Mr. Stoutenburgh, "I have my doubts as to the correctness of that first statement; but I'll tell you what I shall do, my refractory young lady. If you set about anything outside the limits, I'll do my best to thwart you,—there!"
If Faith was not a match for him, there was no meaning in the laugh of her dark eye. But she only bade Mrs. Stoutenburgh an affectionate good night, took her bunch of white roses and Mr. Stoutenburgh's arm and set out to go home.
CHAPTER XXXIV.
Faith put her roses in water and listened half a minute to their strange silent messages. But after that she did a great deal of thinking. If all went well, and Mr. Linden got home safe from abroad,—and this year were all she had to take care for, it was a very little matter to keep the year afloat, and very little matter, in her estimation, whatever she might have to do for the purpose. But those "ifs" no mortal could answer for. Faith did not look much at that truth, but she acted upon it; prayed over her thoughts and brought her plans into shape in very humble consciousness of it. And at the early breakfast the next morning she began to unfold them; which as Mrs. Derrick did not like them, led on to a long talk; but Faith as usual had her way.