One o'clock
Miss Linden stood drawing on her gloves . Faith gave her one swift glance , which rested for a second on her face with a look of loving gratitude . A flush rose to her cheek , as if it might have been the reflection of Miss Linden 's dress ; but it was not that , for it paled again . One o'clock ! It would have seemed a less weird sort of thing if the clock had made a little more fuss , -- twelve strokes , or even eleven , would have been something tangible ; but that one clang -- scarce heard before it was gone , dying away on the June breeze , -- what a point of time it seemed ! The waves of air were but just at rest , when Mrs. Derrick opened the door and came in ; her black dress and white cap setting off a face and demeanour which , with all their wonted sweet placidness , and amid all the tender influences of the day , kept too their wonted energy . `` Come , pretty child ! ''