r throat. Hair,
bright as her hair was, and in the last degree of nice condition and
arrangement, the same perfect presentation of hands and feet and white
ruffles as aforesaid;--that was the most of Faith's dressing; the rest
was a plain white cambric frock, which had its only setting off in her
face and figure. The one touch of colour which it wanted, Faith found
when she went down stairs; for upon the basket where 'Le Philosophe'
commonly reposed, lay a dainty breast-knot of autumn tints,--fringed
gentian with its delicate blue, and oak leaves of the deepest red, and
a late rose or two.

It is a pity there was nobody to see Faith's face; for its tints copied
the roses. Surprise and doubt and pleasure made a pretty confusion. She
held in her hand the dainty bouquet and looked at it, as if the red
leaves could have told her what other hand they were in last; which was
what Faith wanted to know.

A step on the porch--a slight knock at the front door, naturally drew
her thoughts and feet thither, but whatever Faith expected she did not
expect to see Sam Stoutenburgh. One might almost go further and say he
did not expect to see her, for he gazed at her as if she had been an
apparition--only that his face was red instead of white.

"How do you do, Sam," said Faith, coming back a little to everyday
life. "Do you want to see Mr. Linden?"

"O no, Miss Faith!" said Sam--as if it were the last thing in the world
he wanted to see.

"Well Sam--what then?"

But Sam was slow to say what then--or indeed to say anything; and what
would have been his success is to this day unknown, for at that moment
Mr. Linden came down stairs.

"Do you want me, Sam?" he said, approaching the front door.

"No, sir," said Sam (playing both parts of an unwilling witness)--"I--I
thought you were out, Mr. Linden."

"O--" Mr. Linden said. "I beg your pardon!" And he not only went into
the parlour but shut the door after him.

To no purpose! With him went the remnant of Sam Stoutenburgh's courage,
if he had had any to begin with, and after one more glance at Faith he
fairly turned his back and fled--without striking his colours. Faith
went back to the parlour.

"What is the matter with the boy?" she said, "I couldn't get anything
out of him, Mr. Linden."

A somewhat peculiar smile came with the words,

"Couldn't you?"

Faith noticed it, but her thought was elsewhere. She came back to the
table, took up the flowers, and said a little timi