arked admiration,--"do you like them? He always did."

Faith kissed the child, partly to thank her and to stop her lips,
partly to hide her own which she felt were tale-telling.

"Where did you get the roses, Linda?"

"O off the bush in the garden. But Mr. Linden always picked one
whenever he came, and sometimes he'd stop on his way to school, and
just open the gate and get one of these white roses and then go away
again. So we called it Mr. Linden's bush." Faith endeavoured to attend
to her raspberries after this. When tea was over she was carried off
into the drawing-room and the children were kept out.

"If you want me away too, Faith," Mrs. Stoutenburgh said as she
arranged the lamp and the curtains, "I'll go."

"I don't want you to go, ma'am."--And then covering her trepidation
under the simplest of grave exteriors, Faith spoke to the point. "It is
mother's business. Squire Deacon has come home, Mr. Stoutenburgh."

"My dear," said the Squire, "I know he has. I heard it just before you
came in. But he's married, Miss Faith."

"That don't content him," said Faith, "for he wants our farm."

"Rascal!" said Mr. Stoutenburgh in an emphatic under tone,--"the old
claim, I suppose. What's the state of it now, my dear?"

"Nothing new, sir; he has a right to it, I suppose. The mortgage is
owing, and we haven't been able to pay anything but the interest, and
that must be a small rent for the farm." Faith paused. Mrs.
Stoutenburgh was silent; looking from one to the other anxiously,--the
Squire himself was not very intelligible.

"Yes"--he said,--"of course. Your poor father only lived to make the
second payment. I don't know why I call him poor--he's rich enough now.
But Sam Deacon!--a small rent? too much for him to get,--and too
little.--Why my dear!" he said suddenly sitting up straight and facing
round upon Faith, "I thought--What does your mother expect to do, Miss
Faith?--has she seen Sam? What does he say?"

"He came to see her this afternoon, sir--he is bent upon having the
place, mother says. And she don't like to leave the old house," Faith
said slowly. "He will take the farm, I suppose,--but mother thought,
perhaps, sir--if you would speak to Mr. Deacon, he would let us stay in
the house--only the house without anything else--for another year.
Mother wished it--I don't know that your speaking to him could do any
good." Faith went straight through, but the rosy colour sprung and grew
till its crimson reac