Which intimation quickened Faith's steps about the little she had beforehand to do, and also quickened a trifle the beating of her heart. It was not quiet--timidity and pleasure were throbbing together, and throbbing fast, when she turned her back upon the rest of the house and went to Mr. Linden's room. She would have a good uninterrupted time this afternoon, at any rate. And the materials were there, as he had said,--all the materials; from books, open and shut, to the delicate white paper, and a pen which might be the very one Johnny Fax thought could write of itself. Faith stood and looked at them, and then sat down to work, if ever such a determination was taken by human mind. She had been a good while absorbed in her business when a knock came to the front door, which Faith did not hear. Cindy however had ears to spare, and presently informed Mrs. Derrick that a gentleman wished to see her. And in the sitting-room Mrs. Derrick found Dr. Harrison. "You haven't _forgotten to remember_ me, I hope, Mrs. Derrick," he said as he took her hand. He looked very handsome, and very pleasant, as he stood there before her, and his winning ease of manner was enough to propitiate people of harder temper than the one he was just now dealing with. "No indeed!" said Mrs. Derrick; "I remember a great many things about you,"--(as in truth she did.) "But I daresay you've changed a good deal since then. You've been gone a great while, Dr. Harrison." "Do you _hope_ I have changed?--or are you afraid I have?" "Why I don't think I said I did either," said Mrs. Derrick smiling, for she felt as if Dr. Harrison was an old acquaintance. "And I suppose it makes more difference to you than to me, anyway." Which words were not blunt in their intention, but according to the good lady's habit were a somewhat unconscious rendering of her thoughts. "How's Miss Sophy, after her holiday? I always think play's the hardest work that's done." "I am very sorry you found it so!" said the doctor. "You needn't be--" said Mrs. Derrick, rocking complacently and making her knitting needles play in a style that certainly might be called work,--"I've got over it now. To be sure I was tired to death, but I like to be, once in a while." The doctor laughed, as if, in a way, he had found his match. "And how is Miss Derrick?" he asked. "If she was tired too, it was my fault." "I guess that 'll never be one of your faults, Dr. Harrison," said Mrs. Derrick,--"it would take any amount of folks to tire _her_ out. She's just like a bird always. O she's well, of course, or I shouldn't be sitting here." "And so like a bird that she lives in a region above mortal view, and only descends now and then?" "Yes, she does stay upstairs a good deal," said Mrs. Derrick, knitting away. "Whenever she's got nothing to do down here. She's been down all the morning."