"Endecott!" said Faith, with a look of astonished remonstrance and amusement in one.—"What?"
But the smile and blush with which Faith turned away bespoke her not very much displeased; and she knew better by experience than to do battle with Mr. Linden's words. She let him have it his own way.
The next day business claimed him. Faith was given up to the kindness and curiosity of her new friends. They made good use of their opportunity, and their opportunity was a good one; for it was not till late in the day, a little while before the late dinner hour, that Mr. Linden came home. He found Faith in her room; a superbly appointed chamber, as large as any three of those she had been accustomed to. She was standing at the window, thoughtfully looking out; but turned joyfully to meet Mr. Linden. Apparently he was glad too.
"My dear little Mignonette! I feel as if I had not seen you for a week."
"It has been a long day," said Faith; who looked rather, it may be remarked, as if the day had freshly begun.
"Mignonette, you are perfectly lovely! Do you think you will condescend to wear these flowers?" said Mr. Linden, drawing her to a seat by the table, and with one arm still round her beginning to arrange the flowers he had thrown down there as he came in.
Faith watched him, and then looked up.
"Endecott you shouldn't talk to me so. You wouldn't like me to believe you."
Mr. Linden finished setting two or three ruby carnations in the green and purple of heliotrope and sweet-scented verbena; then laid the bunch lightly upon her lips and gravely inquired if they were sweet.
"Yes," Faith said, laughing behind them. "You are not hungry?"