rd," said Mr. Linden, softly, "do you know that all your
compeers live by eating?"--"Crumbs" said Faith with equal softness.

"But of proportionate size!"--"Yes," said Faith.

"You know," he said in the same low voice, "to go back to our old maxim
those bells may stand for the music, and we have certainly spoken a few
sensible words; but if you do not look up how will you find the
picture?"--She raised her eyes, but it was for a swift full glance up
into his face; she looked nowhere else, and her eyes went back to her
plate again. The involuntary, unconscious significance of the action
made Mr. Linden smile.

"I have had mine now, Mignonette, and Ency spoke true."

"How long does it take people to get married," came in a good-humoured
kind of a growl from the room they had left, the door to which was
ajar. "Ain't it done yet?"

"There's Mr. Simlins, Endecott," whispered Faith, colouring.

"Come in and see," said Squire Stoutenburgh. "Who wants to know?"
Wherewith the door was pushed open, and Mr. Simlins long figure
presented itself, and stood still.

"What are you uneasy about, Mr. Simlins?" the Squire went on. "You may
go and shake hands with Mr. Linden, but don't congratulate anybody
else." The farmer's eye rested for a moment on Faith; then he went
round and shook hands with the bridegroom.

"Is it done?" he asked again in the midst of this ceremony.--"Yes."

"Past all help, Mr. Simlins," said Mrs. Somers.

"I am glad, for one!" Mr. Simlins answered. "Mayn't I see this cretur
here? I wish you'd stand up and let me look at you."

Faith rose up, he had edged along to her. He surveyed her profoundly.
"Be you Faith Derrick?" he said.--"Yes, sir."

He shook _her_ hand then, holding it fast. "It's the true, and not a
counter," he remarked to Mr. Linden. "Now, if you'd only take
Neanticut, I could die content, only for liking to live and see you.
Where _are_ you going to take her to?"--"I am not sure yet."

"I guess I don't want you at Neanticut," said the farmer, taking a cup
of coffee which Faith gave him. "Last Sunday fixed that. But there'll a
bushel of Neanticut nuts follow you every year as long as I'm a
Simlins, if you go to the Antipathies. No, I don't want anythin' to
eat--I've done my eatin' till supper-time."

The door-knocker warned the party that they must not tarry round the
lunch-table, and before Mr. Simlins had a chance to say anything more
he had on his mind, the principal personages of th