the fact that a man often gets the wrong mark, by no means proves that there is no right one which belongs to him," said Mr. Linden, looking gravely at Faith as if he meant she should smile.
Faith seemed to look at the question however rather seriously, for dropping her knife and fork she asked,
"How shall a man know his mark?"
"By earnest consideration and prayer," he answered, really grave this time. "I know of no other way, Miss Faith."
What a remark that was! it silenced the whole table. Knives and forks and spoons had it alone, with only words of necessity; till Faith asked Mr. Linden if he would not have another cup of coffee.
"Certainly!" he said handing her his cup. "There is so much to be said on both sides of that little bit of china—I must not be partial in my attention."
"But you can't study both sides of a subject at once," said the coffee-hater.
"Then take them alternately—and (figuratively) walk round your coffee-cup, surveying its fair proportions from different points of view. If the coffee is strong and you are nervous—that's one thing. Again, if the coffee be weak and you be phlegmatic—that's another."
"The coffee's not strong to-day," said Mrs. Derrick with a regretful shake of the head.
"Nor am I phlegmatic,"—with the slightest possible indication of a smile.
"Do you think," said Miss Danforth, "a man is better able to decide questions of common judgment for having studied a great deal?—learned a great many things, I mean."
"That depends very much upon what effect his studies have had upon his judgment. Mrs. Derrick—are you trying to break me off from coffee by degrees? this cup has no sugar in it."
"O my!" said Mrs. Derrick, colouring up in the greatest confusion. "I do beg your pardon, sir! Faith, take the sugar-bowl, child, and pick out some large lumps."
"You will get more praise from Miss Danforth than blame from me, ma'am," said Mr. Linden, submitting his cup to Faith's amendment and watching the operation.
"I don't know," said Miss Danforth goodhumouredly. "Maybe he can stand it.—If he takes two cups I should say he can. How do you like the profession of teaching, sir?"
Now to say truth, Mr. Linden did not know—not by actual practice, but it was also a truth which he did not feel bound to disclose. He therefore stirred his coffee with a good deal of deliberation, and even tasted it, before he replied,
"What would you say to me, Miss Danforth, if I professed to be fond of teaching some people some things? Miss Faith, that last lump of sugar was potent."
"What sort of people, and what sort of things, for instance?" said the lady.
"The things I know best, and the people who think they know least—for instance," he replied.
"I should say you know definitions," was Miss Danforth's again goodhumoured rejoinder.
"What did you say was the matter with the sugar, sir?" said Faith.
"I said it was potent, Miss Faith,—or I might have said, powerful. But indeed it was not the sugar's fault—the difficulty was, there was not enough coffee to counterbalance it."
"I put in too much!" said Faith, making a regretful translation of this polite speech.
"Yes"—said Mr. Linden with great solemnity as he set down the empty cup,—"but too much sugar is at least not a common misfortune. With what appreciation I shall look back to this, some day when I have not enough! What did you think of the sunrise this morning?"
"Do you mean, because the sky was covered with clouds?" said Faith. "But there was enough—the sun looked through; and the colours were beautiful. Did you see them?"
"I wonder when you did, child?" said Miss Danforth;—"up to your elbows in butter!"
"Yes, I saw them. Then you are true to your name, Miss Faith, and find 'enough' in a cloudy sky?—Pray, Miss Danforth, what depth of butter does a churning yield in this region?"
"I guess," said Miss Danforth laughing, "you never saw much of farmer's work—did you?"
"Is butter-making farmer's work?" said Mr. Linden with a face of grave inquiry.
"Here's the trustys"—said Cindy opening the door; "at least that's what they said they be, but I'm free to confess 'tain't nobody but Squire Deacon and Parson Somers."
"Do they want me?" said Mr. Linden looking round.
"I guess likely"—said Cindy. "The Squire does come here to see MissFaith, but I guess 'tain't her he wants this time."
And Cindy vanished.
"What do the trustees want?" said Miss Danforth.
"Upon the testimony of Cinderella, they want me," said Mr. Linden. "Miss Faith, may I have a glass of water?—What they want to do with me, Miss Danforth, is a little uncertain."
"Well," said Miss Danforth, "I think you'll be able to prevent them!"
He rose to take the glass from Faith's hand, and then merely inquiring whether the ladies were coming to second him, left the room.
Parson Somers was a young-looking, good-looking, affable gentleman, who pressed the ladies' hands very cordially and was very happy to see them. Squire Deacon was younger, and likewise good looking, but affability he had never been charged with. Over the handsome cut of face, the strong well-built figure, he wore a manner as rough as a bear's great-coat; only at some times and for some people the roughness was brushed down. It never would stay, any more than the various elegant phrases with which Deacon sometimes seasoned his speech, would take root there and spread.
"Quite an agreeable variation," said Mr. Somers,—"ha—in such a place as Pattaquasset—to have a new arrival among us. Mr. Linden—I hope you will like our little town. You have a pleasant experience of us to begin with."
"Yes but, Parson, don't make him think we're all like some," saidSquire Deacon,—and as he turned towards Faith the beaming of his faceseemed almost reflected in his brass buttons. "Dreadful gloomy morning,Miss Faith!"
"Mr. Linden has probably seen too much of the world," said Mr. Somers,—"not to know that—ha!—too great a preponderance of good is not to be looked for."
"May as well look for as much as you can find," said Miss Danforth. "A good deal's lost by not looking for it."
"Ah," said the Squire, with another glance at Faith, "it's not so hard to find things, neither, Miss Danforth. You remember Sinbad the sailor lookin' down into the vale of diamonds?"
"Don't remember him a bit. What did he see there?"
"Nothin' but diamond jewellery," said Squire Deacon in a sentimental tone. "Miss Faith, you doubtless recollect the tale?"
"I hope," said Mr. Somers,—"ha!—friend Deacon—you don't mean thatMr. Linden should look for a valley of diamonds in Pattaquasset?"
"Whereabouts does the valley lie, sir?" said Mr. Linden.
But the Squire, as if a new idea had struck him, replied somewhat brusquely,
"It
