the farmer.

"I will."

"If that don't do, I s'pose nothing will," said Mr. Simlins. "They're
mighty words! And they've stopped _my_ mouth."

Faith was silently marking the places. The farmer sat looking at her.

"You do know the Scripturs--I can say that for you!" he remarked.

"No, Mr. Simlins!--" said Faith looking up suddenly, "I don't know this
string of passages of myself. Mr. Linden shewed them to me," she said
more softly and blushing. She went on with what she was about.

"Well don't he say you like to speak truth rayther than anything else?"
said the farmer. "If he don't, I wouldn't give much for his discretion.
When's he going to have leave to take you away, Faith?" It was half
sorrowfully spoken, and though Faith rose up and blushed, she did not
answer him quickly.

"My business must take me away now, sir;--good night."

But Mr. Simlins shouted to Jem Waters, had the wagon up, put Faith in
with infinite care and tenderness, and sent her home so.

One rainy, stormy, wild equinoctial day in the end of September--not
long after that letter had come, Squire Stoutenburgh came to the door.
Faith heard him parleying with her mother for a minute--heard him go
off, and then Mrs. Derrick entered the sitting-room, with her eyes full
of tears and her heart, at least, full of a little package,--it did not
quite fill her hands.

"Pretty child!" she said, "I'm so thankful!"--and she went straight off
to the kitchen, and the little package lay in Faith's lap. The thick
brown paper and wax and twine said it had come a long way. The rest the
address told. It was a little square box, the opening of which revealed
at first only soft cotton; except, in one corner, there was an
indication of Faith's infallible blue ribband. Fastened to that, was a
gold locket. Quite plain, alike on both sides, the tiny hinge at one
edge spoke of a corresponding spring. That touched, Faith found Mr.
Linden. Admirably well done and like, even to the expression, which had
probably struck the artist's fancy; for he had contrived to represent
well both the pleasure and the pain Mr. Linden had felt in sitting for
this picture, for such a reason. The dress was that of the German
students--such as he was then wearing.

Faith had never guessed--till her wondering fingers had persuaded the
locket to open--she had never guessed what she should find there; at
the utmost she looked to find a lock of hair; and the joy was almost as
overwhelming as