She said yes; and without raising her eyes, ran off to get ready. In another minute she was out in the cool freshness of the December twilight.
CHAPTER IV.
The walk lasted till all the afterglow had faded and all the stars come out, and till half Pattaquasset had done tea; having its own glow and starlight, and its flow of conversation to which the table talk was nothing.
Of course, Faith's first business on reaching home was to see about the tea. She and Mrs. Derrick were happily engaged together in various preparations, and Mr. Linden alone in the sitting-room, when the unwelcome sound of a knock came at the front door; and the next minute his solitude was broken in upon.
"Good evening!" said the doctor. "Three-quarters of a mile off 'I heard the clarion of the unseen midge!' so I thought it was best to come to close quarters with the enemy.—There is nothing so annoying as a distant humming in your ears. How do you do?" He had come up and laid his hand on Mr. Linden's shoulder before the latter had time to rise.
"What a perverse taste!" Mr. Linden said, laughing and springing up.
"All the rest of the world think a near-by humming so much worse."
"Can't distinguish at a distance," said the doctor;—"one doesn't know whether it's a midge or a dragon-fly. How is Mignonette? and Mignonette's mother?"
"They were both well the last time I saw them. In what sort of a calm flutter are you, doctor?"
"Do you think that is my character?" said the doctor, taking his favourite position on the rug.
"You go straight to the fire—like all the rest of the tribe," said Mr.
Linden.