The day had worn on and faded, and Faith was still busy in a hunt for some of her wedding presents which she wanted to have on the tea-table. But Mr. Linden for some time had missed her; and entering upon a tour of search, found her in a large closet near the kitchen, with a great deal chest on one side and a trunk on the other. Between them, on her knees, Faith was laying out package after package, and pile after pile of naperies lay on the floor around her; in the very height of rummaging, though with cheeks evidently paled since the morning. Mr. Linden took an expressive view of the subject.
"Mignonette, I want my tea."
"Yes!" said Faith eagerly, looking up and then at her work again, "just so soon as I find some things—"
"I don't want 'things,' I want tea."
"Yes; but you can't have tea without things."
"I will be content with six napkins and ten tablecloths—just for to-night, as we are in confusion."
"And no spoons?" said Faith. "Here they are."
"Yes; here they are," said Mr. Linden, "and here is everything else.
Just look at the state of the floor, for me to walk over."
"Not at all," said Faith; "please keep out. I will have tea ready very soon, Endy."
"You shall not have anything ready," and Faith found herself lifted from her kneeling position, and placed in a not uncomfortable nest of things, "Now, Mrs. Linden, whatever of those packages your hands may touch, shall lie on the floor all night. But as you see, my hands have a different effect." And swiftly and surely the "things" began to find corner room in the closet.