aith's
flowerless dress and belt and hair, said of themselves that Mr. Linden
was away. Roses indeed peeped through the windows, and thrust their
heads between the blinds, but no one invited them in.

Not so peremptorily as the roses--and yet with more assurance of
welcome--Reuben Taylor knocked at the door during breakfast time;
scattering the abstract musings that floated about the coffee-pot and
mingled with its vapoury cloud.

"Sit down, Reuben," said Faith jumping up;--"there's a place for
you,--and I'll give you a plate." To which Reuben only replied, "A
letter, Miss Faith!"--and putting it in her hands went off with quick
steps. On the back of it was written, up in one corner--"Flung on board
the Polar Bear, by a strong hand, from steamship Vulcan, half way
across."

There was no need of flowers now truly in the house, for Faith stood by
the table transformed into a rose of summer joy.

"Mother!" she exclaimed,--"It's from sea--half way across."--

"From sea!--half way across--" her mother repeated. "Why child, what
are you talking about? You don't mean that Mr. Linden's contrived to
make a letter swim back here already, do you?"

Faith hardly heard. A minute she stood, with her eyes very like what
Mr. Motley had graphically described them to be, breaking the seal with
hurried fingers,--and then ran away. The breakfast table and Mrs.
Derrick waited--they waited a long time before Faith came back to eat a
cold breakfast, which tasted of nothing but sea-breezes and was
therefore very strengthening. The strengthening effect went through the
day; there was a fresh colour in Faith's face. Fifty times at least the
"moonbeams" of her eyes saw a "strong hand" throw her packet across the
sea waves that separated the two steamers; the master of the "Polar
Bear" might guess, but Faith knew, that a strong heart had done it as
well. And when her work was over Faith put a rose in her belt in honour
of the day, and sat down to her books, very happy.

The books were engrossing, and it was later than usual when she came
down stairs to get tea, but Mrs. Derrick was out. That wasn't very
strange. Faith went through the little routine of preparation,--then
she took another book and sat down by the sweet summer air of the open
window to wait. By and by Mrs. Derrick came slowly down the road,
opened and shut the gate with the same air of abstracted
deliberateness, and came up the steps looking tired and flushed. In the
porch