very strong was sufficiently shewn by the way her
hands lay in her lap and on the arm of the chair, and by the lines of
her pale quiet face. _Bodily_ strength was not flourishing there.
Reuben looked at her wistfully, with a half-choked sigh, then knelt
down beside her chair, as he often did.

"I didn't bring them all, Miss Faith--I mean, I didn't _pick_ them all.
Charlie and Robbie saw me in the meadow, and nothing would do but they
must help. I don't think they always knew which to pick--but I thought
you wouldn't mind that," he said as he laid the cowslips on the table,
their fair yellow faces shewing very fair in the sick room. Faith's
face was bright before, but it brightened still.

"They look lovely to me--tell Charlie and Rob I will thank them when I
can. I don't thank _you_, Reuben,"--she said turning from the flowers
to him.

"No, ma'am, I should hope not," he said, answering her smile
gratefully. "But that's not all, Miss Faith--for Ency Stephens sent you
one of her rosebuds,"--and Reuben took a little parcel carefully from
his pocket. "It's only wrapped up in brown paper, because I hadn't time
to go home for white. And she told me to tell you, Miss Faith," he
added, both eyes and cheek flushing--"that she prays every day for you
to get well and for Mr. Linden to come home."

The smile died on Faith's face and her eyes fell. "He ought to have
this," she said presently, with a little flush on her own cheek. "I
don't feel as if it should come to me. Reuben, does she want anything?"
It was very rare, even now, for Faith to speak directly to Reuben of
Mr. Linden, though she was ready enough to hear Reuben speak of him.

"No, ma'am, I think not," he said in answer to net question. "You
know--did you ever hear, Miss Faith?--that when Mr. Linden first went
there she was kept in the house the whole time,--nobody knew how to
take her out--or took the trouble; and Mr. Linden carried her half a
mile down the lane that very first day. And you can guess how he talked
to her, Miss Faith,--they said she looked like another child when she
came back. But is there anything I can do for you, ma'am, before I go
to the post-office?--it's almost time."

"If you'll fill that glass with water for me, Reuben--that I mayn't let
my sweet cowslips fade--that's all. They'll do me good all to-morrow."

Reuben went off, his place presently supplied by Mrs. Stoutenburgh; who
against all persuasion had insisted upon coming down to see