“scotchie’s” warning growl turned to a joyful greeting as faith spoke his name.

“great cæsar! faith!” exclaimed her uncle, drawing her into the kitchen. “what on earth are you doing out-of-doors at this time of night?”

“you locked the door,” whimpered faith.

“but why did you not call out? we thought you went straight to bed,” said her uncle.

“i went down to the shore——” began faith, and then stopped suddenly.

“well, go straight to bed, and tell your aunt about it in the morning. she is fast asleep now.”

faith was glad to obey. she was too tired and sleepy to be greatly troubled by what would happen in the morning. she had resolved that if aunt prissy questioned her she would tell the truth. but she hoped earnestly that in some [pg 185]way the secret could be kept even from her aunt and uncle, until mr. phelps should tell them.

when she came down to breakfast it appeared that her uncle had only told aunt prissy that faith had run out after supper, and, instead of calling and knocking until some one opened the door, had waited until “scotchie’s” bark had brought him to the door.

aunt prissy was more surprised and alarmed at this news than faith had expected. she cautioned faith never to go out without telling some one of the family.

“why, some wolf or wildcat might have been about; or a party of indians might have happened along and taken you off,” she said. “and we should never have known what had become of you.”

faith promised never again to leave the house without her aunt’s permission, and was glad indeed that she had escaped without telling of her journey to the fort.

“aunt prissy! do you know what day this is?” she asked, so soberly that her aunt looked at her a little anxiously. “it is the very last day of march; it has been a warm and pleasant month, and my father has not come for me.”

[pg 186]“and are you so anxious to say good-bye to us, faithie? you know that instead of your making a visit home your father has decided it is best for you to stay; not come back unless for a visit, until another autumn,” responded aunt prissy.

“yes, i know. but why does he not come?” persisted faith.

“perhaps to-day will bring him,” aunt prissy answered hopefully.

faith came and stood close beside aunt prissy’s chair. she wanted to say that she loved her cousins and uncle and aunt prissy very dearly; to tell her that she had been happy; and that it had been a beautiful visit; but that now she wanted to see her own dear mother more than anything else. but how could she say all this so that aunt prissy would understand?

aunt prissy put down her knitting and drew the little girl into her lap.

“there! now tell me all about it, dear,” she said, resting her face against faith’s yellow curls.

and faith told her all that she had been thinking; all that she had thought would be so difficult. and aunt prissy listened, saying,[pg 187] “of course,” and “yes, indeed,” from time to time, and understanding even more than faith found words to tell.

“why, aunt prissy, it’s almost like having two homes,” concluded faith.

before aunt prissy could answer there was the sound of voices in the kitchen, and donald, closely followed by mr. carew, came into the room.

“it’s the very last day of march!” faith reminded him.

“and i came near not getting here to-day,” her father replied, as faith drew him to the big chair near the window, and climbed to a seat on his knees. “i was held up on the trail by a tall fellow, from connecticut, as it proved. he was bound to make me own up that i was an english spy. i told him my name, and my errand, and when i spoke faith’s name, why, he was at once my best friend, told me of his visit at this house, and could not say enough in praise of my little daughter,” responded mr. carew.

“the americans seem to be gaining courage,” said aunt prissy. “the men of the wilderness do not mean to let the other colonies do all the fighting, i’m sure.”

[pg 188]“indeed we’ll do our part, priscilla,” her brother assured her.

faith told her father of the disappearance of mr. trent and louise; of the quilting party, and of all the happenings since his november visit. but she did not tell him of guiding the connecticut man to the pathway up the cliff to fort ticonderoga.

it was evident that mr. phelps had kept the secret for some purpose of his own; so, much as she wanted her father to know, faith resolved that she would not tell him. this secret did not worry and trouble her as the others had done. “i guess it’s because this secret means helping somebody, and the others were just—well, just mean secrets,” faith decided, as she thought it over.

the next morning faith and her father were ready to start at an early hour. uncle phil, aunt prissy, the boys and “scotchie” walked with them to the shore.

“you will come back when summer comes, won’t you, cousin faith?” said donald. “you’ll come for a visit even if you don’t stay and go to school.”

“i will if i can,” faith promised,[pg 189] “and when louise comes back give her the blue beads, aunt prissy.”

“yes, indeed, dear child,” responded her aunt, wondering to herself if louise and her father would ever again be seen in that vicinity. then there were messages for faith’s mother, and not until she was in the canoe were the good-byes really said.

the little group stood on the shore watching the canoe for some minutes, and then turned back toward the house. they were all very quiet, but as they reached the road donald called out: “there’s somebody on our door-step! why, it is louise! yes, it is,” and with a gay call he was off, running swiftly toward the house while the others hurried after him.

“where is faith?” louise asked eagerly, when mrs. scott had welcomed her, and they were in the big kitchen.

“she’s gone home,” said donald, before his mother could answer. but mrs. scott told the little girl of how much faith had missed her, and of the string of blue beads that she had left to be given to louise.

it was evident that louise was greatly disappointed to find that her friend had gone. but [pg 190]she fastened the beads about her neck, and touched them with loving fingers.

“faith was my very first friend,” she said. “my father says that we have come back to stay,” she added, “and perhaps faith will come in the summer?” there was such a pleading, questioning look in the girl’s dark eyes that mrs. scott felt a new tenderness and sympathy for her, and put her arm about louise as she answered:

“perhaps she will. but you must come often and see me; for we shall both miss her very much.”

“oh, may i, mrs. scott? i was afraid you wouldn’t want me to come,” and louise’s face brightened.

“why, i am to help you with your studies, and donald is to call for you when you begin school. faith arranged all that,” responded mrs. scott smilingly.

faith was silent as the canoe went swiftly across the lake, and they had nearly reached the shore before she began asking questions about “bounce,” whom her father declared to be now a “grown-up cat,” and about all the familiar things about the house and mill.

[pg 191]“listen, father!” she said, as they landed, and he drew the canoe to its hiding-place in the alder bushes. “hear the falls!” and for a moment the two stood quietly hearkening to the “chiming waters.”

then mr. carew adjusted the pack, containing faith’s belongings, picked up his musket, without which no woodsman dared travel in those days, and they started up the trail.

everywhere were evidences that spring was near at hand. many trees and shrubs were showing the delicate gray green of coming buds; and now and then the fragrance of the wild arbutus was in the air. birds were busy; wood-thrushes and pewees were calling; now and then a golden-throated warbler sounded his clear note. the air was soft and warm for the season, and faith was so happy in the thought of being really on her way home that she forgot for a time that mr. phelps had said that no american settler’s home in the wilderness could be safe until fort ticonderoga was held by american soldiers.

“it’s lovely to be going home, isn’t it, father?” she said; and mr. carew smiled [pg 192]down at his little daughter, and agreed with her that nothing better could be desired.

“we shall see with glad surprise

lilies spring, and verdure rise;

and soon, amidst the wilds, we’ll hear

murmuring waters falling clear,”—

sang mr. carew softly.

“oh, that is mother’s song,” exclaimed faith. “it just means home, doesn’t it?” and again her father was quite ready to agree.

they walked slowly up the rocky trail and when they reached the top of the first ridge they stopped to rest and eat the excellent lunch that aunt prissy had prepared for them. but faith declared that she was not tired. it seemed to her that she could run all the way if her father would only permit. and when in the early afternoon she first heard the sound of the mill-stream she did run, until, out of breath, she had to rest on a moss-grown stump for her father to catch up with her.

and then, in a short time, they were standing on the edge of the clearing. the brook was dancing and singing as if eager to welcome faith; the sun shone warmly down on mill [pg 193]and cabin and running down the path came mrs. carew; while standing near the cabin was kashaqua, in her gayest feathers, grunting and smiling.

“mother dear! mother dear!” called faith, as she ran forward and was held close in her mother’s arms.