A Little Maid of Ticonderoga Part 8

"You're not worth your salt, Andy," declared the officer. "I'll wager this small maid here would have quicker ears for news."

Faith wished that she could run away, but did not dare to move.

"Well, another summer we'll put the old fort in order and have a garrison that will be worth while. Now, what about my riding boots?"

he added, and after a little talk the officer departed.

It was not long before Mrs. Scott called for her little niece and the two started for home.

Faith told her aunt what the shoemaker had said about his little girl, and noticed that Aunt Prissy's face was rather grave and troubled.

"Do I have to go, Aunt Prissy?" she asked.

"We'll see, my dear. But now we must hurry home, and sew on the new dresses," replied Aunt Prissy, and for a few moments they walked on in silence.

Faith could hear the musical sound of the falls, and was reminded of the dancing mill-stream, of the silver fox and of her own dear "Bounce." Every hour since her arrival at Aunt Prissy's had been so filled with new and strange happenings that the little girl had not had time to be lonely.

"What is the name of the shoemaker's little girl, Aunt Prissy?" she asked, as they came in sight of home, with Donald and Philip, closely followed by "Scotchie," coming to meet them.

"Her name is Louise Trent, and she is lame. She is older than you, several years older," answered Aunt Prissy, "and I fear she is a mischievous child. But the poor girl has not had a mother to care for her for several years. She and her father live alone."

"Does she look like her father?" questioned Faith, resolving that if such were the case she would not want Louise for a playmate.

"Oh, no. Louise would be pretty if she were a neat and well-behaved child. She has soft black hair, black eyes, and is slenderly built.

Too slender, I fear, for health," replied Mrs. Scott, who often thought of the shoemaker's motherless little girl, whose father seemed to resent any effort to befriend her.

"Why, that sounds just the way Esther Eldridge looks. Only Esther isn't lame," responded Faith; and, in answer to her aunt's questions, Faith described Esther's visit to the cabin, omitting, however, the fact that she had given Esther the blue beads.

Faith did not think to speak of the red-coated soldier until the family were gathered about the supper-table that night. Then she suddenly remembered what he had said, and repeated it to her uncle, who was asking her about her visit to Mr. Trent's shop.

"So that's their plan. More soldiers to come another summer! 'Twas a careless thing for an officer to repeat. But they are so sure that none of us dare lift a hand to protect ourselves that they care not who knows their plans. I'll see to it that Ethan Allen and the men at Bennington get word of this," said Mr. Scott, and then asked Faith to repeat again exactly what the officer had said.

In a few days both of Faith's new dresses were finished; and, greatly to her delight, Aunt Prissy had made her a pretty cap of blue velvet, with a partridge's wing on one side. She was trying on the cap before the mirror in the sitting-room one afternoon when she heard a queer noise on the porch and then in the front entry. Aunt Prissy was up-stairs, and the boys were playing outdoors.

"I wonder what it is?" thought Faith, running toward the door. As she opened it she nearly exclaimed in surprise, for there, leaning on a crutch, was the queerest little figure she had ever imagined. A little girl whose black hair straggled over her forehead, and whose big dark eyes had a half-frightened expression, stood staring in at the pleasant room. An old ragged shawl was pinned about her shoulders, and beneath it Faith could see the frayed worn skirt of gray homespun. But on her feet were a pair of fine leather shoes, well fitting and highly polished.

"I brought your shoes," said this untidy visitor, swinging herself a step forward nearer to Faith, and holding out a bundle. "Father doesn't know I've come," she added, with a little smile of satisfaction. "But I wanted to see you."

"Won't you sit down?" said Faith politely, pulling forward a big cushioned chair.

Louise Trent sat down as if hardly knowing if she dared trust the chair or not.

"Your aunt didn't let you come to see me, did she? I knew she wouldn't," continued Louise. "What you got?" she questioned, looking at the pretty cap with admiring eyes.

"It's new. And I never had one before," answered Faith.

"Well, I've never had one, and I never shall have. You wouldn't let me try that one on, would you?" said Louise, looking at Faith with such a longing expression in her dark eyes that Faith did not hesitate for a moment.

"Of course I will," she answered quickly, and taking off the cap placed it carefully on Louise's untidy black hair.

"If your hair was brushed back it would look nice on you," declared Faith. "You wait, and I'll get my brush and fix your hair," and before Louise could reply Faith was running up the stairs. She was back in a moment with brush and comb, and Louise submitted to having her hair put in order, and tied back with one of the new hair ribbons that Aunt Prissy had given Faith. While Faith was thus occupied Louise looked about the sitting-room, and asked questions.

"There," said Faith. "Now it looks nice on you. But what makes you wear that old shawl?"

Louise's face clouded, and she raised her crutch as if to strike Faith. "Don't you make fun of me. I have to wear it. I don't have nothing like other girls," she exclaimed, and dropping the crutch, she turned her face against the arm of the chair and began to sob bitterly.

For a moment Faith looked at her in amazement, and then she knelt down beside the big chair and began patting the shoulder under the ragged shawl.

"Don't cry, Louise. Don't cry. Listen, I'll ask my aunt to make you a cap just like mine. I know she will."

"No. She wouldn't want me to have a cap like yours," declared Louise.

"Isn't your father good to you?" questioned Faith. And this question made Louise sit up straight and wipe her eyes on the corner of the old shawl.

"Good to me! Of course he is. Didn't he make me these fine shoes?" she answered, pointing to her feet. "But how could he make me a pretty cap or a dress? And he doesn't want to ask anybody. But you needn't think he ain't good to me!" she concluded, reaching after the crutch.

"Don't go yet, Louise. See, that's my doll over on the sofa. Her name is 'Lady Amy,'" and Faith ran to the sofa and brought back her beloved doll and set it down in Louise's lap.

"I never touched a doll before," said Louise, almost in a whisper.

"You're real good to let me hold her. Are you going to live here?"

"I'm going to school," replied Faith. "I've never been to school."

"Neither have I," said Louise. "I s'pose you know your letters, don't you?"

"Oh, yes. Of course I do. I can read and write, and do fractions,"

answered Faith.

"I can't read," declared Louise.

Just then Mrs. Scott entered the room. If she was surprised to see the shoemaker's daughter seated in her easy chair, wearing Faith's new cap and holding "Lady Amy," she did not let the little girls know it, but greeted Louise cordially, took Faith's new shoes from their wrapping and said they were indeed a fine pair of shoes. Then she turned to Louise, with the pleasant little smile that Faith so admired, and said: "You are the first little girl who has come to see my little niece, so I think it would be pleasant if you two girls had a taste of my fruit cake that I make just for company," and she started toward the dining-room and soon returned with a tray.

"Just bring the little table from the corner, Faithie, and set it in front of Louise and 'Lady Amy,'" she said, and Faith hastened to obey.

Aunt Prissy set the tray on the table. "I'll come back in a little while," she said, and left the girls to themselves.

The tray was very well filled. There was a plate of the rich dark cake, and beside it two dainty china plates and two fringed napkins.

There was a plate of thin slices of bread and b.u.t.ter, a plate of cookies, and two gla.s.ses filled with creamy milk.

"Isn't this lovely?" exclaimed Faith, drawing a chair near the table.

"It's just like a party, isn't it? I'm just as glad as I can be that you brought my shoes home, Louise. We'll be real friends now, shan't we?"

CHAPTER IX

LOUISE