er father and mother came up, welcomed the Rushleighs cordially,
and the five were presently on their way toward Cross Corners, and
Faith had recovered sufficient self-possession to say something beyond
mere words of course.

Paul Rushleigh looked very handsome! And very glad, too, to see shy
Faith, who kept as invisible as might be at Margaret's other side, and
looked there, in her simple spring dress contrasted with Margaret's rich
and fashionable, though also simple and ladylike attire, like a field
daisy beside a garden rose.

Dinner was of no moment. There was only roast chicken, dressed the day
before, and reheated and served with hot vegetables since their coming
in, and a custard pudding, and some pastry cakes that Faith's fingers
had shaped, and coffee; but they drank in balm and swallowed sunshine,
and the essence of all that was to be concrete by and by in fruitful
fields and gardens. And they talked of old times! Three years old,
nearly! And Faith and Margaret laughed, and Mrs. Gartney listened, and
dispensed dinner, or spoke gently now and then, and Paul did his
cleverest with Mr. Gartney, so that the latter gentleman declared
afterwards that "young Rushleigh was a capital fellow; well posted; his
father's million didn't seem to have spoiled him yet."

Altogether, this unexpected visit infused great life at Cross Corners.

Why was it that Faith, when she thought it all over, tried to weigh so
very nicely just the amount of gladness she had felt; and was dimly
conscious of a vague misgiving, deep down, lest her father and mother
might possibly be a little more glad than she was quite ready to have
them? What made her especially rejoice that Saidie and the strawberries
had not come yet?

When Paul Rushleigh took her hand at parting, he glanced down at the
fair little fingers, and then up, inquiringly, at Faith's face. Her eyes
fell, and the color rose, till it became an indignation at itself. She
grew hot, for days afterwards, many a time, as she remembered it. Who
has not blushed at the self-suspicion of blushing?

Who has not blushed at the simple recollection of having blushed before?
On Monday, this happened. Faith went over to the Old House, to inquire
about Aunt Henderson's foot, and to sit with her, if she should wish it,
for an hour. She chose the hour at which she thought Mr. Armstrong
usually walked to the village. Somehow, greatly as she enjoyed all the
minister's kindly words, and each momen