ing as she was, more in view of the subject
than of her adviser, her face was as frank as the day. His hand quitted
the reins a moment, taking hers and giving it a sort of
'right-hand-of-fellowship' clasp, glad and warm and earnest, as was his
look.

"I am not going to ask you anymore questions," he said,--"you will tell
me if there are any you wish answered."

Her "Thank you" was a little breathless.

For a while the old horse jogged on in his easy way, through the woods
and the fall flowers and the sunny glow; and the eyes of the two
travellers seemed to be busy therewith. Then Faith said with a little
timid touch upon her voice,

"Mr. Linden--I suppose it was you that put a little green book in my
basket last night?"

"Jumping at conclusions again!" he said. "What sort of a little green
book was it?"

"I don't know! I suppose you can tell me."

"Do you suppose I will?"

"Why not? What did you expect me to do with it, Mr. Linden?"

"Find out what sort of a book it is."

"You know I can't read a word of it," said Faith rather low.

"Look at that old house," said Mr. Linden.

They were passing a cleared field or two, one of which seemed yet under
cultivation and shewed corn stalks and pumpkin vines, but the other was
in that poverty-stricken state described by the proverb as 'I once
had.' The house was a mere skeleton. Clapboards, indeed, there were
still, and shingles; but doors and windows had long since been
removed--by man or Time,--and through the open spaces you could see
here a cupboard door, and there a stairway, and there a bit of
partition wall with its faded high-coloured paper. No remnant of
furniture--no rag of old clothes or calico; but in the dooryard a few
garden flowers still struggled to keep their place, among daisies,
thistles and burdocks. The little field was bordered with woodland, and
human voice or face there was none. The sunbeams which shone so bright
on the tinted trees seemed powerless here; the single warm ray that
shot through one of the empty window frames fell mournfully on the cold
hearthstone.

"Yes," said Faith.--"I don't know who ever lived there. It has stood so
a good while."

The road grew more solitary still after that, passing on where the
trees came close upon either hand, and arched their branches overhead,
casting a deep and lonely shadow. The flowers dwindled, the briars and
rank grass increased.

"As to 'Le Philosophe sous les toits,' Miss Faith," said