"'Heaven and the way thither'--" said Dr. Harrison to himself. "What, sir?" said Faith. "I should like to have you answer me that; but I am sorry, I see Mrs. Derrick's house not far beyond us.--I saw our friend Mr. Linden this morning." "Is he better?" said Faith simply. "He's doing very well. I told him he'd be a terribly famous man after this. And it's begun. I found near all the boys in Pattaquasset assembled there this morning." "His Bible class--" said Faith, with a feeling which did not however come into her face or voice, and Dr. Harrison watched both. "Here is _your_ Bible," he said as they stopped at the little gate. "Do you always look so pale on Sundays?" he added with a look and tone of half professional half friendly freedom. "Not always," Faith said; but there came at the same time a little tinge into the cheeks,--that Dr. Harrison wished away. "May I come and earn your forgiveness for yesterday's stupidity?" "Certainly!" Faith said,--"but there needs no forgiveness--from me, Dr. Harrison." He left her with a graceful, reverential obeisance; and Faith went in. CHAPTER XX. Dr. Harrison had but little left Mr. Linden that morning, when Mr. Simlins came in. He had hardly seen his guest yet that day, except, like Mrs. Derrick, when he was asleep. For having watched himself the greater part of the night, for the pure pleasure of it, Mr. Simlins' late rest had brought him almost to the hour when the boys came to what the doctor called Mr. Linden's levee. "Well how do you find yourself?" said the farmer, standing at the foot of the bed and looking at its occupant with a kind of grim satisfaction. "I find myself tired, sir--and at the same time intending to get up. Mr. Simlins, are you going down to church this afternoon?" "Well, no," said the farmer. "I think it's as good church as I can do, to look arter you." "You can have both," said Mr. Linden smiling,--"I should go with you." "You aint fit," said the farmer regretfully. "Fit enough--I'll come back and stay with you another day, when I am well, if you'll let me." "Will you?" said the farmer. "I'll bottle that 'ere promise and cork it up; and if it aint good when I pull the cork--then I'll never play Syrian again, for no one. But s'pose I ain't goin' to church?" "Then I shall have to take Reuben." "You sha'n't take no one but me," growled Mr. Simlins. "I'd rather see you out of my house than not--if I can't see you in it."