down to tea and
Faith had not told her mother yet! which she remembered with a somewhat
uneasy mind. There was nothing uneasy about the third member of the
family!--the poise and balance of the white strawberries upon each
other was not more complete than the resting adjustment of all his
thoughts.

"Mrs. Derrick," he said as she handed him his cup of tea, "what do you
consider the prettiest time of day?"

"The prettiest time of day?" Mrs. Derrick repeated,--"do you mean when
the day looks best--or the people? I'm sure I don't know, Mr.
Linden,--I never watch anybody from morning to night but Faith."

"I am talking of Faith--or what concerns her."

"O well all times of day are alike to her," said her mother
fondly,--"she's just as pretty one time as another,--and one day as
another. Only the days when she used to get letters."

"Mignonette," said Mr. Linden, "when should I have heard such a piece
of news from you?"

"I never knew it before," said Faith.

"How many hours does she need for a morning toilette?" said he,
pursuing his researches.

"Hours!" said Mrs. Derrick--"you'd better say minutes. It's less than
an hour, commonly."

"But I mean uncommonly."

Mrs. Derrick looked thoroughly puzzled. But Faith had got the key, and
hopeless of stopping Mr. Linden she thought the next best thing was to
expedite matters.

"When I take longest, mother,"--she suggested in a low voice.

"How long would she need to arrange orange flowers to her
satisfaction--" said Mr. Linden,--"or white muslin?"

"O!--" said Mrs. Derrick setting down the teapot with her cup half
filled. "I didn't know what you _were_ talking about."

"I am talking about next Thursday," said Mr. Linden, with a gay
gentleness of manner. "Because we have decided--or I have--that
Thursday is to be the prettiest day of the week, and now we want to
choose the prettiest time of day."

A little flush came into Mrs. Derrick's quiet face,--she said not a
word.

"You are willing it should be then?" Mr. Linden said.

The mother's "yes" was very firm and clear, and yet not in just her
usual tone. That came back a minute after with the relief which a
thought of business always brings.

"That dress isn't made!" she said. Mr. Linden's "Faith!--" was
expressive.

"I knew that it could be done in a day at any time, Endecott,"--said
Faith, very grave and flushed. "It is up stairs in my drawer, mother."

"Kept there by what piece of superstition?" he sai