ion.

"Do you know how you will have to scour the country now, and make
yourself as much as possible like cowslips and buttercups and primroses
and mouse-ear?" said Mr. Linden smiling. "One day you may be a Spring
beauty, and the next Meadow-sweet, and when I see you a wild pink I
shall feel comparatively happy."

Faith with a very little laugh remarked that she did not feel as if she
ever should be anything _wild_.

"What is your definition of wild?"

"Not tame."

"Does that meek adjective express the kind of pink you intend to be?"

"I didn't say what I should be--I only spoke of what I am."

"Shall I tell you the future tense of this very indicative mood?" he
said touching her cheeks.

"If you know it!"

"If I know it!--You will be (some months later) a Linden
flower!--whether wild or tame remains to be been."

Unless Linden flowers can be sometimes found a good deal
deeper-coloured than pinks, there was at least very little present
resemblance. The only notice Faith took of this prophecy was an
involuntary one. The door softly opened at this point, and Mrs. Derrick
came in to announce tea. She stood still a moment surveying them both.

"How do you think she looks, Mr. Linden?"

His eyes went back to Faith, giving a quick reply which he did not mean
they should. "She looks like a dear child--as she is, Mrs. Derrick. I
cannot say much more for her. But I shall take her down to tea."

Mrs. Derrick went joyfully off for shawls and wrappers. Mr. Linden was
silent; his eyes had not stirred. But he amused himself with taking
some of the violets from the table near by and fastening them in her
belt and hair; the very touch of his fingers telling some things he did
not.

"Sunbeam, do you feel as if you could bear transportation?"

"Not as a sunbeam. I could walk down, I think," said Faith. Mr. Linden
remarked that the truth of that proposition would never be known; and
then she was muffled in a large soft shawl, and carried down stairs and
laid on the sofa in the sitting-room. The windows were open for the May
wind, but there was a dainty little fire still--everything looked
strangely familiar; even Mr. Linden; though his face wore not just its
most wonted expression. He had laid her down among the cushions and
loosened her wrapping shawl, and paid a little attention to the fire;
and now stood in Dr. Harrison's favourite place, looking at
her,--perhaps trying to see whether she looked more like herself dow