The two ladies paused at a safe distance,--there seemed to be nothing
but boys astir--boys and nuts; and these last not dropping from the
tree, but thrown from hand to hand (hand to head would be more correct)
of the busy throng. Some picking up, some throwing stones to bring
down, others at some flat stone 'shucking,' others still filling their
baskets. And four boys out of five, cracking and eating--whatever else
they were about. The grass, trodden down by the many feet, lay in
prostrate shadow at the foot of the great tree; and the shadows of
other trees fell and met in soft wavy outline. From the side of one old
tree a family of grey squirrels looked out, to see the besiegers lay
waste the surrounding country; in the top of another--a tall hickory,
full clad with golden leaves, Mr. Linden sat--to view the same country
himself; well knowing that he had given the boys full occupation for at
least fifteen minutes. He was not very visible from below, so thickly
did the gold leaves close him in; but Faith heard one of the boys call
out,
"You Johnny Fax! if you throw stones in _that_ tree, you'll hit Mr.
Linden."
"Trust Johnny Fax for not never throwin' so high as _he_ is," said Joe
Deacon.
"I don't _want_ to--" said Johnny Fax--"I don't want to fetch _him_
down."
Whereupon there was a general shout, and "Guess you'd better not,
Johnny!"--"He might come, if you didn't just hit him," vociferated from
various quarters.
"My!" Mrs. Derrick said, surveying the golden hickory, "how on earth
did he ever get up?--And how _do_ you s'pose, Faith, he'll ever get
down!"
Faith's low laugh was her only answer; but it would have told, to
anybody who could thoroughly have translated it, Faith's mind on both
points.
Apparently he was in no haste to come down--certainly meant to send the
nuts first; for a sudden shower of hickory nuts and leaves swept away
every boy from the tree near which Faith and her mother stood, and
threw them all into its vortex. Drop, drop, the nuts came down, with
their sweet patter upon the grass; while the golden leaves fell singly
or in sprays, or floated off upon the calm air.
"Child," said Mrs. Derrick, "how pretty it is! I haven't seen such a
sight since--since a long while ago," she added with a sobering face.
"I want to be there under the tree," said Faith looking on enviously.
"No mother--and I haven't seen it before in a long time, either. It's
as pretty as it can be!"
"Run along then, child," said her mother,--"only take care of your
eyes. Why shouldn't you? I don't want to pick up nuts myself, but I'll
go down and pick you up."
Faith however kept away from the crowd under the hickory tree; and went
peering about under some others where the ground was beaten and the
branches had been, and soon found enough spoil to be hammering away
with a stone on a rock like the rest. But she couldn't escape the boys
so, for little runners came to her constantly. One brought a handful of
nuts, another a better stone--while a third told her of 'lots' under
the other tree; and Reuben Taylor was ready to crack or climb as she
chose to direct.
"If you'll come down the other side, Miss. Faith," said Reuben, "down
by the bank, you could see it all a great deal better."
Faith seized two or three nuts and jumped up, and Reuben led the way
through the leaf-strewn grass to the other side of the mob. But mobs
are uncertain things! No sooner was Faith seen approaching the hickory,
though yet full three feet from the utmost bound of its shadow, than a
sudden pause in the great business of the day was followed by such a
tumultuous shout of "Three cheers for Miss Faith Derrick!--the
prettiest girl in Pattaquasset!"--that she was well nigh deafened. And
promptly upon that, Joe Deacon stepped up to Reuben and whispered,
"_That_'ll fetch him down!"
Faith did not hear the words--she only heard Reuben's indignant,
"Joe Deacon! behave yourself. What makes you always leave your manners
home? that big basket of yours would have held 'em all, easy."
"I didn't know but Sam might want 'em," replied the unabashed Joe,
dashing back into the midst of his compardons, while Reuben at last
reached the pretty look-out at the edge of the woods where Faith could
see the whole meadow and its scattered trees. And having placed her
there ran off again. Standing half hidden by the oaks and chestnuts,
she could see the whole group clustering about the climber now, for he
had come down from his high post.
"Boys," he said, "I am going back to the house to dinner. Any boy who
prefers nuts to dinner may stay and pick them up."
A sudden recollection came over Faith that her fire was probably well
down and coffee not in a state presentable. Taking a survey of the
ground, and calculating that so large a company would want a little
time to get under weigh, she slipped round to where her mother sat, and
giving her a word, set off fleetly and skilfully under cover of some
outstanding chestnuts across the fallow. If she had known it, Faith
need not have shunned to shew her running, for prettier running could
not be. She was soon hidden in the further woodland.
The rest of the party took it more leisurely, so their outrunner easily
gained her point; and having put the fire in order stood at the door to
watch the progress of the coming invasion. It looked enough like that.
For though excellent order of march had been kept for most of the way,
the main body of the troops maintaining a proper position in the rear
of their captain who was quietly escorting Mrs. Derrick over the
meadows, no sooner did the whole band come in sight of the distant
place of lunch baskets, than it became manifest for the hundred
thousandth lime that liberty too long enjoyed leads to license.
Scattering a little from the direct line of march, the better to cover
their purpose or evade any check thereto, as if by concert, first one
and then another set off on a run,--sprang the orchard fence,--and by
the time the mid-orchard was reached all of Mr. Linden's force with the
exception of one or two of the very steadiest, were ahead of him and
straining in full run, if not in full cry, for the now near-at-hand
farmhouse quarry. Beyond all call or hindrance. Standing at the kitchen
door, Faith watched their coming; but discerning beyond the runners the
one or two figures that did not indeed 'bring up the rear' but that
covered it, and supposing that the invaders' object was to storm the
wagon in which the lunch baskets were hid, she stood her ground; till
she perceived that the foremost of the band were making straight for
the kitchen door, and all the rest in their order. Faith gave back a
little and the whole horde poured in. The fire was in a brisk blaze;
the table had nice white cups and naperies on it; the nose of the
coffee-pot was steaming. It looked altogether an inviting place. Down
went hats and caps on the floor, from some of the party, and the whole
of them with flushed faces and open mouths took the survey.
"Ain't it jolly here!"
"I wonder if he'll let us take our dinner in here. There's lots o'
room."
"It's good shady."
"It's a long sight better under the trees."
"Coffee!--I'm blessed!"--said a fifth speaker bending over the
fireplace; while a sixth began slyly to inspect what lay under Faith's
napkins on the table.
"Charley," said Mr. Linden's quiet voice from the doorway, "did Miss
Derrick desire you to uncover her dishes?"
The hand slipped from what it touched, as stealthily the boy's eye went
to the face of the speaker, in the one place if not in the other 'to
see what there might be.'
"I will bear witness that you have 'carried' the house," Mr. Linden
went on,--"now I should like to see you carry the wagon. It will be a
more useful enterprise than this. Only remember that one of the first
duties of a surprise party is to go forth softly."
"Where will we carry the wagon to, sir?" inquired one of the party.
"As far from the house as you can," said Mr. Linden, with a little
glance at Faith. "Come! be off!--great enterprises are never finished
till they are begun."
"I'd like to begin dinner, anyhow," said one, catching up his cap and
leading off.
As quick and more quick than it had been filled, the room was cleared;
and laughing Faith watched the busy swarm as they poured towards their
magazine. Then remembered her own and came back to offer it.
"You may as well rest, Mr. Linden," said Faith as she offered him a cup
of coffee. "I'm sure _they_ are all comfortable. Besides, you
particularly desired a fire and somebody in the house, you know."
"Miss Faith," he said, (taking the cup however) "I'm afraid your
notions of duty are very slack! What sort of a captain would you make
to a beleaguered city? I shall make you read the story of Catherine
Douglass."
"Will you?" said Faith looking very pleased. "And what is
'beleaguered,' Mr. Linden? in the meantime."
"'Beleaguered' means, to be beset with a swarm of invaders who want to
come in and ought to be kept out."
"I didn't know I ought to keep them out," said Faith laughing, "or I'd
have done it."
Mr. Linden shook his head doubtfully. "I saw you give way!" he
said,--"I doubt whether there was even a show of resistance. Now
Catherine Douglass--But I must go. No, don't tempt me with apple
pie--you have no idea of the pies in that wagon. Perhaps if I get
successfully through them, I'll come back and dispose of yours. What
are you reading to-day?--'Le Philosophe'?"
A little soberness came over Faith's smile as she shook her head and
said no.
"I can't stay to ask a question upon that--but I'll ask you two by and
by to pay for it."
And he went out to that little cluster of life that hung about the
great wagon, making himself at once the centre of pleasure and interest
and even fun, as Faith's eye and ear now and then informed her. It was
pretty, the way they closed in about him--wild and untutored as they
were,--pretty to see him meet them so easily on their own ground, yet
always enticing them towards something better. Mrs Derrick thought so
too, for she stood in the doorway and smiled very pleasantly.
"He's a real nice man, Faith," she said. "I don't wonder the boys like
him."
Faith did not wonder at it, but she did not answer, though she too
stood looking.
The ladies had finished their lunch, and Mr. Linden had perhaps _not_
finished his, for he came in again to take another cup of coffee while
the boys were disposing of that very ragged piece of time which the end
of a boys' feast invariably is. So much peace and quietness he gave
himself, if he did not give himself a sandwich--of which I am not
certain.
"Mr. Linden," said Faith, "I want to ask something--will you tell me if
you don't like it?"
"Don't like to have you ask me, do you mean? I do like it."
"Then," said Faith half laughing, "will you tell me it you don't quite
like what I mean?"
"I'll see--" Mr. Linden replied with a smile. "It's not safe for
teachers to commit themselves."
"But I must commit myself," said Faith. "I want to go and pick up nuts
with the boys under the trees--may I?"
She looked for her answer with an eye that thought _he_ might possibly
find an objection where she saw none.
He paused a little before he replied,
"I think you may--if I could be among them and answer for their good
behaviour I should not need to think about it; but you know a man loses
power when he is too far above the heads of his audience. Yet I think I
may trust them--and you," he added with a little smile. "Especially as
the first tree touched this afternoon is yours."
"What does that mean?" said Faith, her doubt all gone.
"Do you think I shall so far forget my office as to let them pick up
nuts for nobody but themselves? Therefore the first tree this afternoon
is for you--or if you please for your mother; the second for Mr.
Simlins. If that will take away your desire for the 'fun,' why I cannot
help it."
"I have no objection to pick up nuts for mother, not even for Mr.
Simlins," said Faith smiling. "And I am not afraid of the boys--I know
half of them, you know. Thank you, Mr. Linden!"
"You might, if I could take you up into the tree-top. There is fine
reading on those upper shelves."
Her eye shewed instantly that she liked that 'higher' fun best--not the
tree-top, verily, but the reading, that she could not get at. Yet for
Faith there were charms plenty below the tree-tops, in both kinds; and
she looked very happy.
"Well"--Mr. Linden said, "as the successful meeting of one emergency
always helps us in the next, and as it is quite impossible to tell
_what_ you may meet under those nut trees,--let me give you a little
abstract of Catherine Douglass, before you read it and before I go. The
said lady wishing to keep the door against sundry lords and gentle men
who came with murderous intent against her sovereign; and finding no
bar to aid her loyal endeavours,--did boldly thrust her own arm through
the stanchions of the door. To be sure--'the brave lady's arm was soon
broken,'--but after all, what did that signify?"
And with a laughing gesture of farewell, he once more left the house.
With which cessation of murmuring voices, Mrs. Derrick awoke from her
after dinner nap in the rocking chair. Faith was standing in the middle
of the floor, smiling and looking in a puzzle.
"Mother, will you go over to the nutting again?"
"I'm a great deal more likely to go to sleep again," said Mrs. Derrick
rubbing her eyes. "It's the sleepiest place I ever saw in my life--or
else it's having nothing to do. I don't doubt you're half asleep too,
Faith, only you won't own it."
The decision was, that Mrs. Derrick preferred to sit quiet in the
house; she said she would maybe run down by and by and see what they
were at. So Faith took her sunbonnet, kissed her mother; and went forth
with light step over the meadow and through the orchard.
The nutting party she found a little further on in the same edge of
woodland. It seemed that they had pitched upon a great chestnut for her
tree; and Faith was half concerned to see what a quantity of work they
had given themselves on her account. However, the proverb of 'many
hands' was verified here; the ground under the chestnut tree was like a
colony of ants, while in the capacious head of the tree their captain,
established quite at his ease, was whipping off the burrs with a long
pole.
Faith took a general view as she came up, and then fell upon the
chestnut burrs like the rest of them; and no boy there worked more
readily or joyously. There seemed little justification of Mr. Linden's
doubts of the boys or fears for her. Faith was everywhere among them,
and making Reuben's prophecy true, that 'they would all enjoy
themselves a great deal better' for her being there; throwing nuts into
the baskets of the little boys and pleasant words at the heads of the
big ones, that hit softly and did gentle execution; giving sly handfuls
to Reuben, and then hammering out for some little fellow the burrs that
her hands were yet more unfit to deal with than his; and doing it all
with a will that the very spirit of enjoyment seemed to have moved.
_She_ in any danger of rude treatment from those boys! Nothing further
from the truth. And so her happy face informed Mr. Linden, when he at
last descended to terra firma out of the stripped chestnut tree.
He did not say anything, but leaning up against the great brown trunk
of the chestnut took a pleased survey of the whole--then went to work
with the rest.
"Boys!" he said--"aren't there enough of you to open these burrs as
fast as Miss Derrick can pick out the nuts? You should never let a lady
prick her fingers when you can prick yours in her place."
There was a general shout and rush at this, which made Faith give way
before it. The burrs disappeared fast; the brown nuts gathered into an
immense heap. That tree was done.
"Hurrah! for Mr. Simlins!" shouted all the boys, throwing up their caps
into the air,--then turning somersets, and wrestling, and rolling over
by way of further relief to their feelings.
"The chestnut beyond that red maple for him," said Mr. Linden, flinging
a little stone in the right direction; at which with another shout the
little tornado swept away.
"Will you follow, Miss Faith? or are you tired?"
"No, I'm not tired yet. I must do something for Mr. Simlins."
"Well don't handle those burrs--" he said. "They're worse than darning
needles."
"Have you seen Kildeer river yet, Mr. Linden?"
"I have had a bird's eye view."
Faith looked a little wistfully, but only said,
"We must look at it after the nutting is done. That's a bit of reading
hereabout you ought not to pass over."
"I mean to read 'everything I can,' too," he said with a smile as they
reached the tree.
"Now Mr. Linden," said Joe Deacon, "_this_ tree's a whapper! How long
you suppose it'll take you to go up?"
"About as long as it would you to come down--every-one knows how long
_that_ would be. Stand out of my way, boys--catch all the burrs on your
own heads and don't let one fall on Miss Derrick." And amidst the
general laugh Mr. Linden swung himself up into the branches in a way
that made his words good; while Joe Deacon whistled and danced 'Yankee
Doodle' round the great trunk.
Half at least of Mr. Linden's directions the boys obeyed;--they caught
all the burrs they well could, on their own heads. Faith was too busy
among them to avoid catching some on her own bright hair whenever her
sunbonnet declined to stay on, which happened frequently. The new
object lent this tree a new interest of its own, and boys being an
untiring species of animals the sport went on with no perceptible
flagging. But when this tree too was about half cleared, Faith withdrew
a little from the busy rush and bustle, left the chestnuts and chestnut
burrs, and sat down on the bank to rest and look. Her eye wandered to
the further woodland, softest of all in hazy veils; to the nearer
brilliant vegetation; the open fallow; the wood behind her, where the
trees closed in upon each other; oftenest of all, at the 'whapper' of a
tree in which Mr. Linden still kept his place, and at the happy busy
sight and sound of all under that tree.
And so it happened, that when in time Mr. Linden came down out of Mr.
Simlins' chestnut, besides the boys he found nobody there but Mr.
Simlins himself.
"Well!"--said that gentleman after a cordial grasp of the hand,--"I
reckon, in the matter of nuts you're going to reduce me to
penur'ousness! How you like Neanticut?"
"It's a fine place," said Mr. Linden.--"And for the matter of nuts, you
need not take the benefit of the bankrupt act yet, Mr. Simlins."
"Over here to see a man on business," Mr. Simlins went on in
explanation,--"and thought I'd look at you by the way. Don't you want
to take this farm of me?"
"I might want to do it--and yet not be able," was the smiling reply;
while one of the smallest boys, pulling the tail of the grey coat which
Mr. Simlins wore 'on business,' and pointing to the heap of nuts, said
succinctly,
"Them's yourn!"
"Mine!" said Mr. Simlins. "Well where's yourn? What have you done with
Miss Faith Derrick?"
"Why we hain't done nothin' to her," said the boy--"she's done a heap
to us."
"What has she done to you, you green hickory?"
"Why--she's run round, firstrate," said little Rob,--"and she's helped
me shuck."
"So some o' you's thanked her. 'Twan't _you_. Here, you sir," said Mr.
Simlins, addressing this time Joe Deacon,--"what have you been doing
with Miss Faith Derrick?"
"I bain't Sam," was Joe's rather cool rejoinder, with a slight
relapsing into Yankee Doodle.
"Hollo!" said Mr. Simlins--"I thought you'd learned all school could
teach you, and give up to come?"
"Only the last part is true, Mr. Simlins," said Mr. Linden, who while
Joe spoke had been himself speaking to one of the other boys.
Mr. Simlins grunted. "School ain't all 'nuts to him,'" he said with a
grim smile. "Well which of you was it?--'twas a fellow about as big as
you here, you sir!"--addressing in a more assured tone another boy who
was swaggering near,--"_you!_ what have you been doing to Miss Faith?
It was you."
"'Twan't me, nother!" said the boy surlily; "nor I hain't done nothin'!
but minded my own business."
In a tone which implied that Mr. Simlins was not acting on the same
laudable principle.
"What has been done?" said Mr. Linden. And certainly _his_ tone implied
that he was minding his own business.
"Well," said Mr. Simlins, "I don't know as they've done much of
anything; but I guessed they'd been givin' her some sass or vexin' her
somehow; and as she's a kind o' favour_ite_ o' mine it riled me. I was
too fur to hear what 'twas."
"Where was she?
"She was round yonder--not fur--There had been some sort of a
scrimmage, I guess, between two of 'em, a little one and this fellow;
and she parted 'em. She had hold o' this one when I see 'em
first--_you_ couldn't have done it better," said Mr. Simlins with a sly
cast of his eye;--"you can set her to be your 'vice' when you want one.
I was comin' up from the river, you see, and came up behind 'em, and I
couldn't hear what they said; but when she let him go, I see her give a
kind o' sheer look round this way, and then she put up her hand to her
cheek and cleared for home like--a gazetteer!"--said Mr. Simlins, who
had given this information in an undertone. "Made straight tracks for
the house, I tell ye!"
"A little one and _which_ one?" was the next inquiry.
Mr. Simlins went peering about among the crowd and finally laid hold on
the identical shoulder of little Johnny Fax.
"Ain't it you?" said Mr. Simlins. "Ain't that red basket yourn?"
Johnny nodded.
"I knowed the basket," said Mr. Simlins returning. "That's about all
that makes the difference between one boy and another! what sort of a
basket he carries. The other fellow is the one I was speakin' to
first--I can swear to _him_--the big one."
Mr. Linden took out his watch.
"Thank you, Mr. Simlins," he said. "Boys--it is half past four,--get
your nuts and baskets and bring them up to the house. Reuben Taylor--do
you see that it is done." With which words Mr. Linden also 'made
tracks' for the house--and 'straight' ones, but with not too much
notice-taking of the golden leaves under his feet.
The truth about Faith was this. While sitting on the grass, taking the
pleasure of the place and time, the peace was at length broken by
discordant sounds in her neighbourhood; sounds of harsh voices, and
scuffling. Looking round for the cause and meaning of all this, she
found that the voices came from behind a thicket of sumach and laurel
at her back, and belonged to some of the boys. Faith went round the
thicket. There were a big boy and a little boy tugging at a casket,
both tugging; the little fellow holding to it with all his might, while
the big boy, almost getting it from him with one hand, was laying the
other very freely about his ears and shoulders. Faith heard the little
one say, "I'll tell--"
And the other, a boy whose name Faith had learned only that morning,
shouted in answer,
"You tell! You tell if you dare! You tell and I'll kill you!--Leave
hold!"--
A round blow was given with the words, which told, but the little boy
still held on to his basket.
"For shame, Phil Davids! you a big boy!"--said Faith.
There was a stay of proceedings while they looked at her, both parties
keeping fast hold however, and both tongues at once combating for
hearing and belief. The little boy, Johnny Fax himself, said the nuts
were his; which the elder denied.
"Let him have his nuts, Phil," said Faith gently. "He must have
them--they belong to him."
"He aint a goin' ter, though," said Davids,--"and _you_ can't do
nothin', if you air Mr. Linden's sweetheart. You air--Joe Deacon says
you be. Leave hold, you!"--
Thinking Faith quelled perhaps, Phil began the struggle again fiercely,
with grappling and blows. But Faith laid hold suddenly on the arm that
was rising the second time, and bade the boy sternly behave himself and
let the basket go. It was not immediately done. He had strength much
more than hers, but something withheld him from exerting it. Nothing
withheld his tongue.
"Aint you Mr. Linden's sweetheart?" he said insolently. "Joe Deacon
says you be."
"No sir!" said Faith; "and you are a bad boy."
"Joe Deacon says you be!"
But Faith did not relax her hold, and spoke with a steady voice and for
that time at least with a steady eye of command which was obeyed.
"Let him go!--Johnny, run off with your basket and be quiet; that's a
good boy. Davids, you'll be quiet the rest of the day for your own
sake."
The boys parted sullenly, Johnny to run off as she had bidden him; and
Faith turned from the green bank, the nut trees, and the frolic, and
laying one hand upon the cheek that faced that way, as if to hide its
burning from eyes too far off to see it, she went into the house.
She put the brands together which had burnt out, and built the fire up
on the strictest principles, though no fire was wanted at present; the
day had mellowed into warmth. Perhaps Faith recollected that after she
had got through, for she left the fire to take care of itself and sat
down again on the doorstep looking towards the nut-tree field. For a
good while her cheek wore its troubled flush, her hand went up to it
once or twice as if to cool it off, and her brow bespoke her using
other and more effectual measures. It cooled at last, into complete
quietness and sweetness; and Faith's face was just like itself when the
first of the party came back from the nut field.
That first one, as we have seen, was Mr. Linden. He found both the
ladies in the farmhouse kitchen; Mrs. Derrick very comfortably at her
knitting. Faith was doing nothing; but she looked up, when she looked
up, with just her own face; not certainly in the happy glow he had seen
under the nut tree, nor with the sparkle of busy pleasure it had worn
in the morning; but as it was every day at home.
Mr. Linden arranged the fire and then stood considering it--or
something--for a minute in silence; until Mrs. Derrick inquired "if he
had found as much as he expected?"--but upon his replying somewhat
dryly, "Rather more"--the conversation dropped again.
"You ought to be tired now, Mr. Linden," Faith said gently.
"I am afraid you are."
"No," she said,--"I am not at all."
"Well then--why shouldn't we have our look at Kildeer river? You said
we must."
"O, if you like it!" said Faith, a bright little tinge of pleasure
coming into her cheek, and her sunbonnet was in hand immediately. "But
aren't you tired?" she added doubtfully as they were passing out of the
door. "You've been hard at work."
"You will have to pay for saying you are not, Miss Faith,--I mean to
make you run all the way down to the bank."
And holding out his hand to her, Mr. Linden half made his threat good;
for though his own pace was not much more than a quick walk, by means
of skilful short cuts and long steps, Faith had a gentle little run a
good part of the way. Not down through the crowd of boys and baskets,
but skirting the meadow--passing from the shelter of one great tree to
another, till they reached the bank and saw the blue waters of Kildeer
river at their feet. There she was permitted to sit down and rest. A
little laughing and a little flushed, her happy look was almost brought
back again. But she sat and gazed down at the pretty stream and its
picturesque banks without saying anything; letting Mr. Linden take his
own view of them. His own view was a peculiar one--to judge by his
words.
"Miss Faith, I suppose you are not much acquainted with law forms,--yet
you perhaps know that an important witness in an important case, is
sometimes put in prison until his evidence is obtained."
Faith looked up at him in pure astonishment, the corners of her mouth
indicating that she expected another _puzzle_, or rather was already
engaged in one. The look made his gravity give way a little.
"I thought you might like to know your position at present," he said.
"I don't know it yet, Mr. Linden."
"It is that of the unfortunate prisoner to whom I referred."
"A prisoner!--" said Faith looking up at him very much amused. "Well,
Mr. Linden?"
He looked amused too, yet with a difference.
"Well, Miss Faith--You are a prisoner, for political purposes. There is
no practicable way for you to get back to the house save through the
witness-box."
"Where is the witness-box?" said Faith.
"Are you in a hurry to be in it?"
"No," said Faith with a very unshadowed smile, "I am not in a hurry for
anything."
"Then tell me what you have been reading to-day," he said, throwing
himself down on the grass beside her.
She looked at him, hesitated, then said with a lowered tone,
"I have been reading what you told me to read--and my testament."
Mr. Linden lifted his hat a little, replaced it--rather more down over
his brows than before, looking steadily down at Kildeer river the while.
"Why did you look grave when I asked you if you had brought 'Le
Philosophe'?"
"I didn't know I did!" said Faith simply. "I had brought only my
testament."
"Only--" Mr. Linden repeated. "Well, from 'only' a testament and only
such a scene--a skilful reader may get much." Then turning and looking
her full in the face, he said, "Miss Faith--what have those boys done
to vex you?"
A sudden, painful, startled flush answered him. She did not look now;
she said earnestly,
"Please Mr. Linden, don't speak of it!"
"I must know--" was his only answer.
"No," she said gently but troubled,--"you mustn't know, and there is no
need you should. There is no need," she repeated eagerly.
"There is another true little witness I can call upon--but I would
rather have your account."
"How did you know?--how did you know anything about it?" said Faith,
facing round upon him in her turn.
"Gentlemen of what Miss Danforth is pleased to call 'my profession'
must know things occasionally," said Mr. Linden.
"_What_ do you think you know, Mr. Linden?" she said a little timidly.
His answer was gentle though resolute.
"I don't _think_ I know anything. What I know, I know----what I do not,
I will."
Faith's head half drooped for an instant, and the flush which had faded
came back painfully. Then she looked at him again, and though the flush
was there she spoke as usual.
"You won't try, Mr. Linden--because I am going to ask you not. It is
nothing you need take up--it was nothing but--what perhaps I was
foolish to mind. I don't mind it now--much--"
But there was a grave falling off in the tone of that much. She felt it
herself, for she rallied and said with her own quiet frank smile,
"I shall not mind it at all to-morrow."
Mr. Linden looked at her while she spoke, gravely and intently enough;
but then he looked away at the river again, and probably read problems
in its soft rippling waters, for he spoke not. Overhead a hawk sailed
noiselessly to and fro, on spread wings,--in the trees close at hand a
squirrel chattered and barked with his mouth full. The afternoon light
left Kildeer river step by step, and the shadows crept after.
Now the one white speck of cloud reflected in that peaceful stream was
no break in its beauty,--it marred nothing, nay, even brought a little
glow of its own to replace the sunbeams. Yet at that speck did Mr.
Linden take aim--sending his pebble so surely, so powerfully, that the
mirror itself was shattered to the remotest shore! Then he stood up and
announced that it was time to go.
Faith stood up, but stood still, and waited somewhat anxiously upon the
answer to her question.
"Then, Mr. Linden, you will not speak of it any more?"
"The witness is discharged," he answered lightly, and walking on.
She sprang after and placed herself directly in his way.
"Mr. Linden--please give me your promise!"
He looked down at her with eyes that were a little moved.
"Miss Faith," he said, "please give me yours!"
"For what?" said Faith.
"That you will trust me--and not ask what I do."
"Yes,"--said Faith,--"but--You must trust _me_, Mr. Linden," she said
smiling at him,--"and believe me that this is nothing for you to take
up--mere nonsense;--nothing at all to-morrow,--it is nothing to me now.
I want your word."
She wanted it very much, it was easy to see; but beyond that, her face
did not belie her words.
"I don't suppose Mrs. Derrick ever called you 'naughty child'"--said
Mr. Linden,--"but if ever she did she might to-night. Look where the
sun is--and where I am,--and guess where those boys are! Come--" and it
was not easy to resist the hand that again took hold of hers, nor the
quick pace at which he went forward.
And for some fields' length Faith yielded and went as fast as he
pleased. Then as he stopped to put up a bar-place she said again, very
gently but firmly too, standing before him,
"Mr. Linden, I think I have a _right_ to ask this. I know what I ask,
but you do not."
"I never questioned your right, Miss Faith."
"Then you'll not deny it to me?"
"What is your idea of trust?" said Mr. Linden, replacing the last bar.
"That it is something I ought to have just now," said Faith, smiling a
little.
He stood leaning on the bars and looking at her--a kind look, that she
might well trust.
"Child," he said, "you don't know what you are talking about--and I do.
And if you will not trust me any further than you can see me, you don't
deserve to be called Miss Faith any longer! Now don't you think I have
a right to get home and attend to my duties?"
She yielded utterly at that, but with a set of her lip which he had
never seen before; it was trembling. She was turning to go on, when as
if to make amends for that--or to ask forgiveness generally--or to give
assurance of the trust he had claimed,--she stretched out her hand to
him and went by his help again until the orchard was reached and other
eyes might be expected to be on the look-out for them.
"Do you like to read letters written from other countries by people you
have never seen?" Mr. Linden said when they reached that point.
Faith's eyes opened slightly as was their way when suddenly astonished,
and a little colour started too, of surprise or pleasure.
"I never did read any," she said,--"I _should_ like it."
"Well, Miss Faith, I think Mrs. Derrick and Reuben can manage that
brown horse--especially as he has had no oats to-day--and I want you to
take possession of the whole of the back seat, put yourself in a
comfortable position, and spend the rest of the daylight in Italy with
my sister. When it gets dark you may go to sleep. And here is the
talismanic paper by whose help you must make the journey."
What a colour thanked him! what a rosy flush of pleasure and gratitude!
To _say_ 'thank you' Faith nearly forgot. But it was said.
There was no more delay of any kind after that. Wagons were ready, and
baskets, and boys; also Mrs. Derrick; and Faith was ready first of all.
So the two parties, now getting under weigh, went fairly homewards, by
an evening sky and a night full of stars. Only one incident need be
recorded.
The ferry was passed, and four of the six miles between that and the
central town of Pattaquasset, when Mr. Linden suddenly checked his
horses. Turning half round, and laying a pretty imperative hand on the
collar of Phil Davids, he dropped him outside the wagon--like a walnut
from its husk--remarking that he had seen enough of him for one day,
and did not wish to hear of him again till next morning.