ed the tears came back again, and then she turned to Mr.
Linden--wrapping her arms round his neck.

"Endy, Endy!--do you remember the first time we talked of this day?"

Mr. Linden gave back her caresses without a word, but with a look of
pain that Faith had rarely seen on his face. It was some minutes before
he spoke. "Dear Pet--she knows it now!"

Miss Linden looked up then, mastering her tears, and with a broken
"Forgive me, Endy--" she kissed him and went away up stairs. But Mr.
Linden did not look out any more. He went into the sitting-room, and
resting his face on his hand sat there alone and still, until Faith
came to call him to tea.

CHAPTER XLII.

"Now my two pets," said Mr. Linden as they left the table Monday
morning, "what are you going to do?"

"_I_ am going to work," said his sister. "Mrs. Derrick and I have
business on hand. You can have Faith."

"There is an impression of that sort on my own mind."

"But I mean to-day. Except for about five minutes every half hour."

"It would be needless for me to say what I am going to do," observed
Faith quietly.

"If that is a little piece of self assertion," said Mr. Linden, "allow
me respectfully to remark that my 'impression' had no reference to the
present time. Do you feel mollified?"

"No," said Faith laughing. "You are wide of the mark."

"Then will you please to state your intentions?--So far from being
needless, it will be what Mr. Somers would call 'gratifying.'"

"I don't know," said Faith merrily. "I understand that if I tell you,
you will say I have no time for them!"--

"For them!--enigmatical. Who told you what I would say?--Ask me." But
Faith laughed.

"I am going to make Pet and you some waffles for tea."

"Do they require more time than shortcakes?"

Faith stood before him quietly as if she had a great deal to say. "I am
going to make bread, for mother and all of us."

"What else?"

"Sponge cake, I think."

"And after that?"

"Crust for pot-pie."

"De plus?"

"Curds,"--said Faith, looking down now.

"Pourquoi, Mademoiselle?"

"To eat," said Faith demurely. "You like them."

"Mademoiselle, I prefer you."

"Each in its way,"--replied Faith admirably well, but with a glance,
nevertheless.

"There is only one in my way," said Mr. Linden. "Well does that
complete the circuit?--I suppose nothing need go between cheese and
bread _but_ waffles?"

"I shall wish--and I suppose you would wish that I should, look