dly ever perhaps given him such a token of the value she
set upon his pleasure.

"Punish you?" he said, leaving Jerry to find the road for himself for a
minute,--"how shall I do it?--so? And how much punishment do you
require? I think a little is not enough. 'Because' what, love?"

"Endy!--" she said under her breath,--"you know!--don't ask me."

"Then--if I exceed your limits--you will not blame me?"

"Limits of what?"

"Limits of this species of executive justice."

"I don't think you would keep limits of anybody else's setting," said
Faith with a little subdued fun. "Look, Endy!--we are coming to Miss
Bezac's."

"Most true," said Mr. Linden,--"now shall you see (perhaps!) one of the
innocent sorts of pride that I keep for myself. What have we come for?"
he added laughing, as Jerry trotted up the side hill to the
cottage,--"is it butter, or carnations, or dressmaking?--they all make
a rare combination in my mind at present."

"She is at home!" said Faith,--"if she wasn't, the window-curtains
would be down. Now she is going to be pleased,--and so am I, for she
will give me something to eat." Faith looked as if she wanted it, as
she softly opened the door of the dressmaker's little parlour, or
workroom, and softly went in. The various business and talk of the
afternoon had exhausted her.

Miss Bezac, having in her young days been not only rich, but also a
firstrate needlewoman, now that she was older and poor plied her needle
for a different purpose. Yet something of old habits clung to her
still; she would not take the common work of the village; but when Mrs.
Stoutenburgh wanted a gay silk dress, or Miss De Staff a delicate
muslin, or Mrs. Somers an embroidered merino--then Miss Bezac was sure
to have them go through her hands; and for these ladies she took the
fashions and dispensed them exceeding well. Strangers too, in
Pattaquasset for the summer, often came to her,--and had not Miss Bezac
made the very first embroidered waistcoat that ever Squire Deacon wore,
or Sam Stoutenburgh admired himself in? So her table was generally
covered with pretty work, and on this particular afternoon she was
choosing the patterns for a second waistcoat for the young member from
Quilipeak, a mantilla for his mother, and a silk apron for Miss Essie,
all at once. In deep cogitation Faith found her, and Faith's soft
salutation,--

"Dear Miss Bezac, will you let strangers come in?" How gloriously Faith
blushed.

"Stranger