“Yes, very, when they are not put back in the right places,” said a deep strong voice, not Seth’s.

It was as if Dinah had put her hands unawares on a vibrating chord.  She was shaken with an intense thrill, and for the instant felt nothing else; then she knew her cheeks were glowing, and dared not look round, but stood still, distressed because she could not say good-morning in a friendly way.  Adam, finding that she did not look round so as to see the smile on his face, was afraid she had thought him serious about his wrathfulness, and went up to her, so that she was obliged to look at him.

“What!  You think I’m a cross fellow at home, Dinah?” he said, smilingly.

“Nay,” said Dinah, looking up with timid eyes, “not so.  But you might be put about by finding things meddled with; and even the man Moses, the meekest of men, was wrathful sometimes.”

“Come, then,” said Adam, looking at her affectionately, “I’ll help you move the things, and put ’em back again, and then they can’t get wrong.  You’re getting to be your aunt’s own niece, I see, for particularness.”

They began their little task together, but Dinah had not recovered herself sufficiently to think of any remark, and Adam looked at her uneasily.  Dinah, he thought, had seemed to disapprove him somehow lately; she had not been so kind and open to him as she used to be.  He wanted her to look at him, and be as pleased as he was himself with doing this bit of playful work.  But Dinah did not look at him—­it was easy for her to avoid looking at the tall man—­and when at last there was no more dusting to be done and no further excuse for him to linger near her, he could bear it no longer, and said, in rather a pleading tone, “Dinah, you’re not displeased with me for anything, are you?  I’ve not said or done anything to make you think ill of me?”

The question surprised her, and relieved her by giving a new course to her feeling.  She looked up at him now, quite earnestly, almost with the tears coming, and said, “Oh, no, Adam! how could you think so?”

“I couldn’t bear you not to feel as much a friend to me as I do to you,” said Adam.  “And you don’t know the value I set on the very thought of you, Dinah.  That was what I meant yesterday, when I said I’d be content for you to go, if you thought right.  I meant, the thought of you was worth so much to me, I should feel I ought to be thankful, and not grumble, if you see right to go away.  You know I do mind parting with you, Dinah?”

“Yes, dear friend,” said Dinah, trembling, but trying to speak calmly, “I know you have a brother’s heart towards me, and we shall often be with one another in spirit; but at this season I am in heaviness through manifold temptations.  You must not mark me.  I feel called to leave my kindred for a while; but it is a trial—­the flesh is weak.”

Adam saw that it pained her to be obliged to answer.

“I hurt you by talking about it, Dinah,” he said.  “I’ll say no more.  Let’s see if Seth’s ready with breakfast now.”