her to the kitchen
with a new accession of zeal, sympathy, and exultation,--sympathy with
him and the poor people; exultation in the work--most of all in him!
Great was the marvelling of Cindy and Mr. Skip at these days'
proceedings.

So passed Friday and Saturday; and Sunday brought a lull. Faith thought
so, and felt so. Her roast turkeys and chickens were reposing in spicy
readiness; her boiled meats and bakeries were all accomplished and in
waiting; and dismissing all but a little joyful background thought of
them, Faith gave her whole heart and mind to the full Sabbath rest, to
the full Sabbath rising; and looked, in her deep happiness, as if she
were--what she was--enjoying the one and striving after the other. But
the ways by which we are to find the good we must seek, are by no means
always those of our own choosing.

It was a clear, cold, still, winter's day. Cold enough by the
thermometer; but so still that the walking to church was pleasant. They
had come home from the afternoon service--Faith had not taken off her
things--when she was called into the kitchen to receive a message. The
next minute she was in the sitting-room and stood by the side of Mr.
Linden's chair.

"Mrs. Custers is dying--and has sent for me."

"For you, dear child?--Well--Are you able to go?"

"Oh yes."

He looked at her in silence, as if he were making up his own mind on
the subject, then rose up and gently seating her on the sofa, told her
to rest there till he was ready; but before he came back again Mrs.
Derrick came to Faith's side with a smoking cup of chicken broth and a
biscuit.

"You've got to eat it, pretty child," she said fondly,--"we're both
agreed upon that point."

Which point mandate Faith did not try to dispute.

The town clock had struck four, all counted, when Jerry dashed off from
the door with the little sleigh behind him. No other sleigh-bells were
abroad, and his rang out noisily and alone over the great waste of
stillness as soon as they were quit of the village. The air happily was
very still and the cold had not increased; but low, low the sun was,
and sent his slant beams coolly over the snow-white fields, glinting
from fences and rocks and bare thickets with a gleam that threatened he
would not look at them long. The hour was one of extreme beauty,--fair
and still, with a steady strength in its stillness that made the beauty
somewhat imposing. There was none of the yielding character of summer
ther