n carrying them one of mother's."

"What a day they will have of it!" said the doctor,--"if Mrs. Derrick's
pies are made in the same place as her muffins. But can _you_ find
nothing better to do than running round the country to supply the
people that haven't pies?"

"Not many things pleasanter,"--said Faith looking at him.

"I see I was right," said he smiling. "I have no doubt angels do that
sort of thing. But it is a sort of pleasure of which I have no
knowledge. All my life I have pleased only myself. Yet one would wish
to have some share in it, too. I can't make pies! And if I could, I
shouldn't know in the least where to bestow them. Do you think you
could take this now," said he producing a gold eagle, "and turn it into
pumpkins or anything else that you think will make people happy--and
see that they get to the right places?--for me?"

"Do you mean it seriously, Dr. Harrison?"

"If you will have the condescension!"

"Oh thank you!" said Faith flushing with joy,--"oh thank you! I am very
glad of this, and so will many others be. Dr. Harrison, I wish you
could know the pleasure this will give!--the good it will do."

"I don't think a ten-dollar piece ever gave _me_ so much pleasure,"
said he looking a little moved. "About the good I don't know; that's
not so easy."

Faith left that point for him to consider, though with many a wish in
her own heart. But the walk home brightened into a very pleasant one
after that.

CHAPTER XIX.

The soft grey clouds which had hung about the setting sun only waited
his departure to double their folds and spread them all over the sky.
Then the wind rose, sweeping gustily through the bare branches, and
heavy drops of rain fell scatteringly on the dead leaves. But when wind
and rain had taken a little more counsel together, they joined forces
in a wild stormy concert which swept on with increasing tumult. It did
not disturb Faith and her mother, at their quiet work and reading,--it
did not deter Cindy from going over night to spend Thanksgiving day
with her friends,--but it was a wild storm nevertheless; and while the
hours of the night rolled on over the sleepers in Mrs. Derrick's house,
still wind and rain kept up their carousal, nor thought of being quiet
even when the morning broke.

"But rather, giving of thanks."--That was the motto of the day--the one
answer to the many vexed questions of life and care. Care was pressing,
and life distracting, and everywhe