"It was a very little thing he did," said Faith. "Only kneeled down to pray in his own room. And it has shined all the way down to us."
"And in later times," said Mr. Linden,—"when the exploring shallop of the Mayflower sought a place of settlement, and after beating about in winter storms came to anchor Friday night at Plymouth Rock;—all Saturday was lost in refitting and preparing, and yet on Sunday they would not land. Those two dozen men, with no human eye to see, with every possible need for haste!"
"That hasn't shined quite so far," said the doctor, "for it never reached me. And it don't enlighten me now! I should have landed."
"Do you know nothing of the spirit of Say and Seal, as well as the province?" said Mr. Linden.
"As how, against landing?"
"They rested that day 'according to the commandment.' Having promised to obey God in all things, the seal of their obedience was unbroken."
"Well, Miss Faith," said the doctor—"Now for a counter example."
"I know so little of what has been done," said Faith. "Don't you remember some such things yourself, Dr. Harrison?—Mr. Linden?"—The voice changed and fell a little as it passed from one to the other.
"General Putnam went into the wolf's den, and pulled him out"—said the doctor humorously,—"that's all I can think of just now, and it is not very much in point. I don't know that there was anything very bright about it except the wolf's eyes!—But here we are keeping Portia out of doors, and Miss Derrick waiting! Linden—fall to." And with comical life and dramatic zeal on the doctor's part, in a few minutes more, the play was finished.
"Mrs. Derrick," said the doctor gravely as he rose and stood before her,—"I hope you approve of plays."