"Yes, mother," replied a voice whose soft tones seemed the echo of her own. A moment after, a slender, dark-eyed girl, about twenty years of age, entered the room, and said cheerfully,—
"What is it, mother?"
"I have somewhat to tell thee, Faith."
And the Quakeress repeated, in calm, unemphatic language, the story narrated by Mrs. Janes.
"The poor man will soon be here, Faith," continued she, "and I wanted to ask what thee thinks should be done with him. Thee knows there is no room that can have a fire in it, except the one where Polly and Susan sleep, and they are both too sick to be moved into the cold"—
"He shall have my room, mother," said Faith, quietly.
"Thy room, child?"
"Yes, mother; and I will sleep here on the couch. I should like it very much indeed; for you know I never have been able to be quite the orderly and regular girl you have tried to make me."
"Thee is a good girl," said the mother, quietly.
"Not half so good a girl as I ought to be, with so good a mother," replied Faith, throwing her arms about her mother's neck and kissing her fondly.