"It's not late," said Mrs. Derrick. "And don't you fret about Sam Deacon, child,--he always was a little goose--till he got to be a big one; but you needn't think he'll ever shoot himself for love of you,--he loves himself better than that." And at this point, Crab--roused by the thought of his own supper--set off at a good round trot which soon brought them home. There was nobody there, however, not even Cindy; so the need of haste did not seem to have been urgent. Faith soon had the kitchen fire in order, and her clams in the pot, and was for the next half hour thoroughly busy with them. Then she made herself ready for tea, and the mother and daughter sat together by the lamp, the one with her knitting the other with her book. But the extra half hour was already past. "Faith," said Mrs. Derrick at last, "why wouldn't Mr. Linden do the other thing you asked him to?" Faith looked up suddenly from her book, as if not understanding the question; then her head and her voice drooped together. "I haven't asked him yet, mother." "I didn't know but he'd some objection," said Mrs. Derrick. "Well I wish he'd come--I want my supper. I'm as tired as tired can be, paddling round there in the mud. How did you like your lantern, child?" she said as the clock struck half past seven. Faith raised her head and listened first to the clock and for any sound that might be stirring near the house; then answered, "I haven't looked at it, mother." "What do you think of having supper?" "Before Mr. Linden comes, mother?--well, if you like it, I'll get you yours--the clams are ready." "I don't care," said her mother,--"I'm more sleepy than hungry. I'll just lie down here on the sofa, Faith, and you can wake me up when you hear him." And disregarding the cooked clams in the kitchen, Mrs. Derrick went to sleep and dug them all over again. The clock ticked on,--softly, steadily, from the half hour to the hour, and from the hour to the half. Out of doors there was nothing stirring, unless the owl stirred between his unmusical notes, or Mr. Skip's dog did something but howl. Hardly a wagon passed, hardly a breath moved the leaves. Cindy, on her part, was lost in the fascination of some neighbouring kitchen.