"Nor I, dear, from your point of view. But in the world, Faith, where you have been so little, I have seen the words of the trust to be boundless—the faithfulness of the trustees within very narrow limits. And to be always ready to 'sow beside all waters'—who is? 'Freely ye have received, freely give,' is the command—but what Christian sees with half perception what he has received!"
Faith paused and looked thoughtful, and then smiled again. "I always think of the words you read to me one day,—'Only be thou strong and very courageous,—for the Lord, thy God is with thee, whithersoever thou goest.'"—
The answering look told that if Mr. Linden's words had not been said for the purpose of drawing her out, they had at least served that purpose.
"You are a dear little Sunbeam!" he said. "Acting out your name, as I told you long ago. There is nothing needful to get you ready for the White Mountains but a fur cloak. Now come—it is growing late, as you say."
It was a late tea-time when they got home. They sat down to tea and Faith had not told her mother yet! which she remembered with a somewhat uneasy mind. There was nothing uneasy about the third member of the family!—the poise and balance of the white strawberries upon each other was not more complete than the resting adjustment of all his thoughts.
"Mrs. Derrick," he said as she handed him his cup of tea, "what do you consider the prettiest time of day?"
"The prettiest time of day?" Mrs. Derrick repeated,—"do you mean when the day looks best—or the people? I'm sure I don't know, Mr. Linden,—I never watch anybody from morning to night but Faith."
"I am talking of Faith—or what concerns her."
"O well all times of day are alike to her," said her mother fondly,—"she's just as pretty one time as another,—and one day as another. Only the days when she used to get letters."
"Mignonette," said Mr. Linden, "when should I have heard such a piece of news from you?"