have to go all round again the
other night--I was afeard she had. I'll take you over creation," he
sung out after her as they parted company,--"and I'll be along Monday."

"Quapaw creek?" said Dr. Harrison, as the interrupted procession took
up its line of march again,--"I think I remember that. What was the
matter?"

"The bridge was broken, with a loaded wagon upon it," Faith explained.

"And you crossed by fording?"

"Yes."

"Isn't it rather a difficult ford? If I remember right, the bed of the
stream is uneven and rough; doesn't it require some guiding of the
horses?"

"I believe so--yes. It isn't safe for an ignorant rider."

"I didn't give you credit," said he looking at her, "for being such a
horsewoman. That is quite a feat for a lady."

Faith coloured high. But she was not going a second time to fight the
doctor "with his own weapons." A very little she hesitated, then she
said boldly, though not in very bold tones it must be confessed,--

"I am not a horsewoman--Mr. Linden carried me over."

The doctor looked very moody for a few minutes; then his brow
brightened. Faith's straightforward truth had served her as well as the
most exquisite piece of involution. The doctor could not very well see
the face with which her words were spoken and had to make up his mind
upon them alone.

"It is so!" was his settled conclusion. "She has only a child's
friendly liking for him--nothing more--or she never, simple as she is,
would have said that to me with that frankness!"

Moodiness returned to the doctor's brow no more. He left Quapaw creek
in the distance and talked of all manner of pleasant things. And so,
with no second break of the order of march, they went on and went home.

"Mr. Linden," said Faith when she was lighting the lamp for study in
the evening,--"you'll never ask anything of me so hard to do as that
was to-day."

"Hard?" he replied. "Why?"

"To keep in front, where I could not see you and that horse."

"Miss Faith! I am very sorry!--But you know I had you in charge--I felt
bound to keep you in sight."

"I know,"--she said; and sat down to her work.

CHAPTER XXXIV.

There was no more riding after that--the weather grew too cold, and
Mattabeeset was put off till spring; but with walks and talks and
reading aloud, Goethe's maxim was well carried out. For there is music
that needs no composer but Peace, and fireside groups that are not bad
pictures in stormy weather. And so Dece