"It suits her, Mr. Olyphant," said Pet.
"So I see, Miss Pet. Do you think I have lost my eyes? Endecott, are you going to bring her to the White Mountains?"—"I think so, sir: that is my present inclination."
"How would you like it, Mrs. Linden?"—"I think I should like it, sir."
"Not afraid of the cold?"—Faith's smile clearly was not afraid of anything. So was her answer.
"You must have a house midway on the slope," said Mr. Olyphant; "half your parish above your heads, half at your feet: and you will have plenty of snow, and plenty of work, and not much else, but each other. Endecott's face says that is being very rich but he always was an unworldly sort of fellow, Mrs. Linden; I don't think he ever saw the real glitter of gold, yet."
Did her eyes? But they were unconsciously looking at riches of some kind; there was no poverty in them. "I like work, sir."
"Do you think she could bear the cold, Mr. Olyphant? how are the winters there? That is what I have thought of most."
"I am no more afraid of the cold than you are, Endecott." How gently the last word was spoken! But Faith clearly remembered her lesson.
Mr. Linden smiled. "She is a real little Sunbeam," he said. "You know they make light of cold weather."
"Light of it in two ways," said Mr. Olyphant. "No, I don't think you need fear the winters for her; we'd try and protect her."