run."

This run was rather a long one, yet came to an unexpected end, for
turning a woody point in the road the two riders saw a wagon before
them, so directly in their way, that the run changed to a walk even
before they perceived that the wagon was in distress. Some bit of
harness, some pin, had given way, and the driver had dismounted to
repair damages. But moody, or intent upon his work, Faith's horse was
close upon him before he looked up--then she saw it was Squire Deacon.
He looked down again as suddenly, with only a slight motion of his hand
to his hat.

Faith's first impulse would have been to rush on; but she checked that.
Her next would have been to wait and leave somebody else to speak
first; but she overcame that too. So it was her very clear gentle voice
that asked,

"Are you in trouble here, Mr. Deacon?"

The Squire had no time to give his answer, and scarce a moment wherein
to concoct it, for Mr. Linden had dismounted and now came between
Faith's horse and the wagon, with,--"What is the matter, Squire
Deacon?--can I help you?"

The Squire looked up them, full, with a face that darkened as he looked.

"It's you, is it?" he said slowly. "I thought it was Dr. Harrison!"

"Can I help you?" Mr. Linden repeated--and the tone was a little
peremptory.

Sullenly and slowly the Squire told the damage--the broken harness, the
lost lynch-pin; and let Mr. Linden take the first out of his hands, and
do what he chose with it; looking on the while--then by degrees taking
hold himself and working with him as with any other man, but throwing
off jealously the kindness of his helper's words or manner. It was a
grave kindness, certainly, but it did not belie the name. Faith sat
looking on. After awhile her voice broke the silence.

"Did you say a lynch-pin was wanting, Mr. Deacon?"

"There's one gone."

"I should like to be doing something to help. Will you lend me your
knife, Mr. Deacon?--and I'll try." But that brought a hand on her
bridle.

"I cannot trust your horse out of my sight, Miss Faith,--I will get
what is wanting."

"There's no use in anyone's doing anything," said Squire Deacon, by way
of a settler; and the harness work went on in silence.

Faith waited a little.

"I am not the least afraid," she said then, leaning over her horse's
neck but speaking no name. "There's a place only a little way back
where I think I can get a lynch-pin,--if _anybody_ will lend me a
knife. Please let me go an