your father used to
say, Faith,--and I used to think I'd like to, to please him,--but
somehow I never did."

"Never wished it for your own sake, dear mother?"

"Yes--sometimes--when I saw him die--" said Mrs. Derrick. "Hush
child--don't say another word to me now, for I can't bear it." And
giving Faith an embrace which took off all thought of roughness from
her words, Mrs. Derrick rose up and went about her dishes again.

And Faith tried to do as much; but the dropping tears were too fast for
her towel; her hand sought in vain to forbid their coming; she laid
down her work and went away.

Truth however is always at one with itself, and so is right feeling,
and so is duty. Faith as well as her mother had plenty of business on
hand that morning; and it was not long before she was as hard at work
in the kitchen as if there were no other interests in the world. There
was bread to make. That was done. There was an elaborate chicken pie to
concoct for dinner, which Faith would not leave to her mother to-day.
There was a certain kind of muffins which Mrs. Derrick suggested Mr.
Linden would be apt to like, and which they had never had since he was
in Pattaquasset. To hear was to obey, and Faith compounded the muffins.
Then fresh yeast must be made, and Faith always did that. Let it not be
thought that Mrs. Derrick was idle while thus indicating floury fields
of exertion to her daughter. Very far from it. There was all the house
and all the rest of the dinner to see to; besides Cindy, who was one
woman's work. The butcher was to be met, and farm questions settled
with the farmer; and Mrs. Derrick was still deep in vegetables when
Faith quitted the kitchen. How much time she had left for study before
dinner it doesn't appear.

After dinner, this day, there was small study chance--or at least small
chance to get books; for it was Wednesday,--and Wednesday was in every
Pattaquasset school a half holiday. Indeed that arrangement of things
extended beyond the schools; and on this particular Wednesday, Mrs.
Derrick devoted the holiday time to a far-off neighbour--declaring that
she "felt like a good long walk." And after her departure the
dreaminess of a warm fall afternoon settled down upon the house and its
inhabitants. Faith sat sewing by the parlour window, or
reading--stealthily; for Mr. Linden with his book sat in the porch not
three feet from her; but it is not too much to say that neither made
great progress. Who could