"My poor little tired Mignonette!" he said as he came up to her. Then lifted her face, and looking at it a moment with a half smile, pressed his lips again where they had been so lately. But this time that did not satisfy him.
"Endy," she said presently, "please don't praise me before other people!"
"What dreadful thing did I say?" inquired Mr. Linden, laughing. "Do you know I have hardly seen my wife yet?"—To judge by Faith's face, neither had she.
"If I speak of her at all I must speak the truth. But Mr. Olyphant knows me of old; he will not take my words for more than they are worth."
A slight commentary of a smile passed, but Faith did not adventure any repartee.
"Are you very tired?"—"Oh no!"
"Little bird!" said Mr. Linden, holding her close. "What sort of a sweet spirit was it that said those words at my side this morning?"
There was no answer at first; and then, very quaint and soft the words—"Only Faith Derrick."
"'Only.'—Faith, did you hear my parting direction to Miss
Essie?"—"Yes."
"Do you agree to it, Mrs. Linden?"