There was a stir of feeling in Mr. Linden's face—there was even an unwonted tinge of colour, but the firm-set lips gave no indication as to whence it came; and he presently looked up, answering the doctor in tones as graceful and more simple than his own.
"Thank you, doctor, once more! But I have full employment, and am—or am not—ambitious,—whichever way you choose to render it. Not to speak of the pleasure of astonishing Pattaquasset," he added, with a smile breaking out,—"I could not hope to do that for Quilipeak."
"Please know," said the doctor, both frankly and with much respect in his manner, "that I have been so presumptuous as to concern my mind about this for some time—for which you will punish me as you think I deserve. How to be so much further presumptuous as to speak to you about it, was my trouble;—and I ventured at last," he said smiling, "upon my own certain possession of certain points of that 'friend' character which you were giving just now to Reuben Taylor—or to yourself, in his regard."
"I am sure you have them!—But about Reuben,—though I know reward is the last thing he thought of or would wish,—yet I, his friend, choose to answer for him, that if you choose to give him any of the books that he will need in college, they will be well bestowed."
"In college!" said the doctor. "Diable! Where is he going?"
"Probably to Quilipeak."
"You said, to college, man. I mean, what is college the road to, in the youngster's mind?"
"I am not sure that I have a right to tell you," said Mr. Linden,—"it is in his mind a road to greater usefulness—so much I may say."
"He'll never be more useful than he was last night. However, I'm willing to help him try.—What is Mignonette going to do with herself this afternoon?"—said the doctor throwing aside his newspaper and standing before her.
"I don't know," said Faith. "Sit here and work, I suppose."