"What a skyful of lovely white clouds!" she said, looking up to the pure, fleecy folds that were flittering over the blue. "We can't see that in Mishaumok!" "She's just heavenly!" said Glory to herself, standing at the back door, and gazing with a rapturous admiration at Faith's upturned face. "And the dinner's all ready, and I'm thankful, and more, that the custard's baked so beautiful!" CHAPTER XIII. DEVELOPMENT. "Sits the wind in that corner?" MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. "For courage mounteth with occasion." KING JOHN. The lassitude that comes with spring had told upon Mr. Gartney. He had dyspepsia, too; and now and then came home early from the counting room with a headache that sent him to his bed. Dr. Gracie dropped in, friendly-wise, of an evening--said little that was strictly professional--but held his hand a second longer, perhaps, than he would have done for a mere greeting, and looked rather scrutinizingly at him when Mr. Gartney's eyes were turned another way. Frequently he made some slight suggestion of a journey, or other summer change. "You must urge it, if you can, Mrs. Gartney," he said, privately, to the wife. "I don't quite like his looks. Get him away from business, at _almost any_ sacrifice," he came to add, at last. "At _every_ sacrifice?" asked Mrs. Gartney, anxious and perplexed. "Business is nearly all, you know." "Life is more--reason is more," answered the doctor, gravely. And the wife went about her daily task with a secret heaviness at her heart. "Father," said Faith, one evening, after she had read to him the paper while he lay resting upon the sofa, "if you had money enough to live on, how long would it take you to wind up your business?" "It's pretty nearly wound up now! But what's the use of asking such a question?" "Because," said Faith, timidly, "I've got a little plan in my head, if you'll only listen to it." "Well, Faithie, I'll listen. What is it?" And then Faith spoke it all out, at once. "That you should give up all your business, father, and let this house, and go to Cross Corners, and live at the farm." Mr. Gartney started to his elbow. But a sudden pain that leaped in his temples sent him back again. For a minute or so, he did not speak at all. Then he said: "Do you know what you are talking of, daughter?" "Yes, father; I've been thinking it over a good while--since the night we wrote down these things." And she drew from her pocket the memorandum of stocks and dividends. "You see you have six hundred and fifty dollars a year from these, and this house would be six hundred more, and mother says she can manage on that, in the country, if I will help her." Mr. Gartney shaded his eyes with his hand. Not wholly, perhaps, to shield them from the light. "You're a good girl, Faithie," said he, presently; and there was assuredly a little tremble in his voice. "And so, you and your mother have talked it over, together?"