would let me."

But whatever Mrs. Stoutenburgh meant she did not explain, for dinner
was announced, and the Squire came up to take possession of Faith
again; receiving his wife's little whispered "I've done it!" with all
her own satisfaction.

In the dining-room Sam was at last visible, but the bashful fit had not
gone off, and Faith's black silk was even more distracting than her
white muslin. Her greeting of him was simple enough to have been
reassuring.

"I hope you will be as happy a great many times as you are to-day,
Sam," she said as she shook hands with him. "On the 29th of November, I
mean."

Perhaps Sam thought that doubtful--perhaps impossible,--perhaps
undesirable. At all events his words were few; and though he was
permitted the post of honour at Faith's side, he did not do much for
her entertainment at first.

The dinner itself, service and style and all included, was sufficiently
like the Squire and his wife. Handsome and substantial, free,
bountiful, and with a sort of laughing air of good cheer about it which
more ceremony would have covered up. There was no lack of talk,
either,--all the company having the ability therefor, and then, at
least, the inclination. But if Mr. Linden now and then called Sam out
of his abstraction, so did the Squire attack Faith; giving her a little
sword play to parry as best she might.

"Miss Faith," he said, "do you know to what a point you are, day by
day, winding up the curiosity of this town of Pattaquasset?"

"I, sir!" said Faith, apparently, by her eye and air, occupying the
place of the centre of motion to all this curiosity;--the point of
absolute rest.

"My dear," said the Squire, "they say two things about you! The first
is that you never go out! Now don't trouble yourself to contradict
that, but just tell me the _reason_. We're all friends here, you know."

"Why I go out very often indeed, Mr. Stoutenburgh!" said Faith.

"Didn't I tell you not to contradict me? Ah Miss Faith!--young ladies
never will take advice! Well--the first thing is, as I said, that you
never go out. The second," said the Squire laughing, "is--that you do!"

"Well sir," said Faith merrily,--"they can't both be true--and there
isn't anything very bad about either of them. Nor very curious, either,
I think."

"What I should like to know," said Mr. Linden, "is, who keeps watch at
the gate?"

"Squire Deacon does, for one," said Sam promptly. "I see him there
often enough."