"Yes, and put my dresses on them," responded Faith eagerly, running to the closet and bringing out the blue dress, a skirt and a small shawl. It was not long before two "cushiony" figures, as large as Jane, were seated on the bed.

"Let's put our coats and caps on them, Faith; and when the other girls come this evening we'll make them think the pillows are company,"

suggested Louise.

Jane jumped about the room with delight as Faith and Louise adjusted the caps and fur coats.

"We'll introduce them as Annie Snow and Mary White," said Faith. "It will be fun to see what the girls will say."

Four little girls were expected, and several boy friends of Donald's.

Aunt Prissy wondered a little at Faith's eagerness to take the girls directly up-stairs on their arrival, but she was greatly pleased to see that Louise, Jane and Faith were evidently having a delightful time.

It was nearly dusk when the little visitors arrived, and Faith's room was rather dim and shadowy. The little girls coming in were rather surprised to find that there were strangers, evidently just arrived, sitting on Faith's bed.

"Girls, these are two of my best friends, Annie Snow and Mary White,"

said Faith, trying hard not to laugh, as her schoolmates bowed politely and greeted the stout figures on the bed, who, apparently, did not hear the introductions.

Jane, giggling with delight, circled around the newcomers; while Louise seated herself on the bed and began talking to Annie Snow.

Faith endeavored to make the newcomers at ease, and it was not long before she had to run down-stairs to help her aunt with the supper, leaving Louise and Jane to carry on the game.

The children were to have their supper in the kitchen. The tables for young and old had been spread before the arrival of any of the guests, so there was but little for Aunt Prissy and Faith to do before calling the guests to supper.

Louise was the last one to enter the kitchen, her face radiant with fun and delight at the success of "Annie Snow" and "Mary White." She found a chance to tell Faith that "Annie" and "Mary" had managed to say that they didn't feel like eating supper, and that the girls had not yet discovered the joke.

"We'll bring them down after supper," Faith whispered.

"Are your friends from the Wilderness?" asked Peggy Tibbetts, the oldest girl of the party, as Faith sat down beside her.

"No," Faith answered slowly. "They are both coming down after supper, and I know you will be surprised when I tell you that they live right in this house."

Peggy Tibbetts was surprised. She looked almost frightened, and lost no time in whispering this information to the other girls; so that when Faith announced that she would run up-stairs and ask "Annie" and "Mary" to come down there was an anxious silence.

Faith asked Jane to go with her, and in a few moments they returned with the two clumsy "girls." In the brightly-lit kitchen the dressed-up figures could no longer be mistaken, and the children were greatly pleased and amused by "Annie" and "Mary," who were established in straight-backed chairs, and urged to share in the supper.

There was so much laughter and merriment in the kitchen that Aunt Prissy looked in for a moment. "Faithie dear, who are the little girls in the corner?" she asked. To Louise and Jane this seemed a triumph indeed, and when Aunt Prissy, entering into the spirit of the affair, insisted upon being introduced to "Annie" and "Mary," and said she was very glad to see them, the children danced about, greatly pleased with this unexpected fun.

When the clock struck nine the grown people and children were all ready to start for home. Louise was to stay all night with Faith.

As the children said their good-byes and stepped out into the snow-trodden path they called back messages to "Annie" and "Mary."

The full moon shone down so brightly that the path could be plainly seen, and in the distance the dark line of the forest, and the heights of Ticonderoga.

"It's the best time I ever had in all my life," declared Jane, as she trotted off holding fast to her mother's hand.

And Faith said the same as she bade Aunt Prissy good-night. "It's fun to have parties, isn't it, Aunt Prissy," she said, "and all the girls are so pleasant."

"That is what makes the good time, isn't it?" responded her aunt.

"I hope it won't storm to-morrow," Louise said, as the two girls prepared for bed.

"What makes you think of a storm?" questioned Faith.

"There was a ring around the moon," said Louise; "that's one sign, and the air felt like snow."

But Faith was too happy over the evening to think about weather signs.

She had, for that night, quite forgotten about the English soldiers and her resolve to send a message to Ethan Allen.

Louise's predictions proved right; for when the morning came snow was falling steadily, and great drifts were heaped up against the walls and fences. A chill east wind came sweeping across the ice-bound lake, and it was plain that there would be no more skating for many days.

For nearly a week trails and roads were impa.s.sable. Mr. Trent, knowing that Louise was safe and happy with her friends, made no effort to reach her; and the Scotts were glad to keep indoors, safe from the fierce cold and wind.

Donald and Hugh dug a tunnel to the shop, and Mr. Scott kept a path open to the barn, while indoors Aunt Prissy kept the two girls busy and happy. She declared that she had been hoping for a day to dye some recently woven blankets, and asked Faith what color she thought would be best.

"But how can you make any color you like, Aunt Prissy?" asked Faith.

"Perhaps not 'any color I like,' but I have a good lot of colors to choose from," replied Aunt Prissy. "People who live in the wilderness need only to step outdoors to find almost anywhere some plant that furnishes dye, and I gather my dye-plants and roots every summer, as I am sure your own mother does."

"I know mother always gathers the dogwood roots to make a scarlet dye.

Kashaqua told her about that," answered Faith. "The Indians use it for their feathers."

"And I am sure your mother dyed your brown dress with the sh.e.l.ls of the hickory-nut," said Aunt Prissy, "and the yellow root is what I used to color the covers on the chair cushions in your room."

This was all new to Louise, and she listened eagerly, thinking to herself that she would color the faded quilts on her own bed; and that another summer she would gather a good supply of the roots and plants of which Mrs. Scott spoke.

"The pokeweed berries will color a good red," continued Mrs. Scott; "but for scarlet we must use the dogwood roots."

Then Mrs. Scott showed the little girls her bundles of dyestuffs, each plant and root tied up and marked carefully with its name and use. A large number of the dogwood roots were put into a huge iron kettle, the kettle filled with water, and hung over the fire. When it had boiled for several hours there would be a good scarlet dye in which the new blankets would be dipped. Then they would be hung to dry in the shed.

The next day the sun came out and shone brightly down on a white and glistening world, and that afternoon Mr. Trent came to take Louise home. He would not come in, but waited at the door until she was ready to go. But he thanked Mrs. Scott for all her kindness to his little daughter.

Faith was quite sure that Mr. Trent must be sorry to be a Tory instead of a loyal American. "But I suppose he can't help it," she decided, and always thought of her friend's father as unfortunate.

Faith and Louise always had so many things to talk about that they seldom spoke of the redcoats; and when they did Louise seemed to dislike them more than Faith herself.

Faith and Donald both had snow-shoes, and on their way to school, a few days later, Faith stopped at the shoemaker's door. But there was no response to her knock, and when she tried the door it would not open. She wondered where Louise and her father could be, but not until the next day did she hear that the shoemaker and Louise had left their home, apparently not to return. They had gone with a number of English families, on sledges, down the river, without a good-bye to the kind friends who had grown to love the little lame girl.

"I know Louise couldn't help it," Faith declared, when Aunt Prissy told her the news. "She will write to me, I know she will," but it was a long time before any word came to her from her little friend. And now Faith became more and more eager for March to come, that she might once more see her father and mother, and make some attempt to send a message to Ethan Allen.

CHAPTER XVII

FAITH AGAIN VISITS THE FORT

The night after hearing that Louise had gone Faith felt more nearly homesick than at any time since her arrival at her aunt's house.

Everything seemed to remind her of her friend. Even "Lady Amy" made her remember that Louise had never owned a doll of her own.

"And I had meant to give Louise one of my strings of blue beads just as soon as I had asked Aunt Prissy," she thought, regretfully, holding up the pretty beads, and recalling how much Louise had admired them.

"Aunt Prissy," she called, running down the stairs and into the sitting-room, "may I not give Louise one of my bead necklaces?"