and taking off Esther’s hat. She smoothed back the dark hair with a tender hand, remembering that Esther’s own mother was not well, and resolving to do her best for this delicate child.

“I think the pumpkin is cooked by this time, Faithie. I’ll set it in the window to cool and then you can take out the pulp and I’ll make the cakes,” said Mrs. Carew.

Bounce jumped up in Esther’s lap, and Faith sat down on the braided rug beside her.

“I’m going to make the pumpkin shell into a work-basket for you,” said Faith. “Did you ever see a pumpkin-shell work-basket?”

Esther shook her head. She did not seem much interested. But she asked eagerly: “Are the pumpkin cakes sweet?”

“Yes, indeed. You shall have one as soon as they are baked; may she not, mother dear?”

“Why, yes; only if Esther is not well it may not be wise for her to eat between meals,” responded Mrs. Carew.

“Oh! But I eat cakes whenever I want them,” declared Esther, “and I love sweets. I had a fine cake when I left home and I ate it all before we got to Lake Dunmore.”

Mrs. Carew thought to herself that she did not wonder Esther was always tired and not strong. Esther did not say that the “fine cake” had been sent as a gift to Faith. But her face flushed a little, and she added, “I meant to bring the cake as a present; but I was hungry.”

“Of course you were,” agreed Faith quickly. “Is not the pumpkin cool enough to cut, mother dear?” asked Faith.

“Yes,” replied her mother, setting the yellow pumpkin on the table.

“Come and see me do it, Esther,” said Faith, and Esther, with a little sigh, left the comfortable chair and came and leaned against the table.

With a sharp knife Faith cut a circle about the stem of the pumpkin and took it off, a little round, with the stem in the center. “That will be the work-box cover,” she explained, laying it carefully on a wooden plate. Then she removed the seeds and the pulp, putting the pulp in a big yellow bowl, and scraping the inside of the pumpkin shell. “There! Now when it dries a bit ’twill be a fine work-box, and it is for you, Esther,” she said; but Esther was watching Mrs. Carew, who was beating up eggs with the pumpkin pulp.

“Do you put spices in the cakes?” she questioned eagerly. “How long before they will be baked?”

Faith stood holding the yellow pumpkin shell, and looking at her visitor wonderingly.

“All she cares about is something to eat,” thought Faith, a little scornfully, setting the fine pumpkin shell on the table.

Esther’s face brightened as she listened to Mrs. Carew’s description of pumpkin cakes, and of pumpkin pies sweetened with maple syrup.

“I think I must teach you to cook, Esther. I am sure you would soon learn,” said Mrs. Carew.

“I guess I wouldn’t be strong enough,” responded Esther in a listless tone, going back to the rocking-chair, without even a glance at Faith’s present.

“Come, Esther, let’s go down to the mill. I’ll show you the big wheel, and how father raises the water-gate,” suggested Faith, who was beginning to think that a visitor was not such a delightful thing, after all.

Esther left her chair with a regretful sigh, and followed Faith out-of-doors.

“Listen!” said Faith. “That rippling, singing noise is the brook.”

Esther laughed. “You’re funny,” she said. “Why should I listen to a noisy old mill-stream?”

“I thought perhaps you’d like to hear it. I do. Sometimes, just as I go to sleep, I hear it singing about the stars, and about little foxes who come down to drink, and about birds....” Faith stopped suddenly, for Esther was laughing; and as Faith turned to look at her she realized that Esther cared nothing about the music of the stream.

“I do believe you are silly,” Esther responded. “Do you think your mother will bake the cakes and pies while we are away?”

“Yes,” replied Faith dully. Only that morning she had said to herself how nice it would be to have a girl friend to talk with, but if Esther thought she was “silly”—why, of course, she must not talk. “I’ll let her talk,” resolved Faith.

For a few moments the two little girls walked on in silence, then Esther said suddenly: “Does your mother ever let you boil down maple molasses for candy?”

“Sometimes,” replied Faith.

Esther slipped her little brown hand under Faith’s arm. “Ask her to let us make candy this afternoon. Do. Tell her it will keep me from being lonesome. For my father will be going to Ticonderoga as soon as dinner is over; he will be gone for days. Will you ask her, Faith?”

“Yes, I’ll ask her,” Faith answered.

“I know I’m going to have a fine visit,” declared Esther, with more interest than she had shown since her arrival. “Does your mother ever bake little pies, in saucers, for you?”

“No,” said Faith, still resolved to say no more than was necessary.

“Oh! Doesn’t she? That’s too bad. I wish I had asked her to. Then we could play keep-house in the afternoon, and have the pies to eat. Will your mother make pies again to-morrow?”

“I don’t know,” said Faith.

Esther did not care much about the mill. She hardly glanced at the big water-wheel, and was eager to get back to the house. Several times she reminded Faith of her promise about the maple candy. Faith had expected that she and Esther would be the best of friends, but the time before dinner seemed very long to both the children.

Soon after dinner Mr. Eldridge went on his way. He left his horse in Mr. Carew’s care, as he was to walk to the shore of Lake Champlain and trust to good fortune to find a canoe or boat in which he could cross the narrow strait to Ticonderoga. He would not return for a week, and he seemed greatly pleased that his little daughter was so contented to be left with her new friends.

“She is an only child, like your own little maid,” he said to Mrs. Carew, “and I am glad they are to be friends.”

They all walked down the slope with him, and watched him striding off along the rough path.

“He’s going to fetch me some rock-candy,” said Esther as they turned back to the house.

Mrs. Carew stopped at the mill, and the two little girls went back to the house.

“We’ll make the maple candy now, shan’t we?” said Esther, as they reached the kitchen door. “See, the kettle is all clean, and I know where the molasses jug is,” and before Faith could remind her that she had not yet asked permission, Esther was dragging the heavy jug from the pantry.

“Oh, look out, Esther. You’ll spill it,” cautioned Faith, running to help her.

“No, I won’t. Here, help me turn it into the kettle and get it over the fire before your mother comes back,” urged Esther, and the two girls lifted the jug and turned the maple syrup into the kettle. “There, that will make a lot of candy,” said Esther. “You stir up the fire and put on more wood.”

Faith obeyed. She hardly knew what else she could do, although she was sure that her mother would not want them to use all the syrup for candy. As she piled on the wood, she heard a scrambling noise at the door, and a sudden scream from Esther: “Faith! Faith! A bear! A bear!” and looking over her shoulder she saw a big brown bear coming in through the kitchen door.

CHAPTER II

FAITH MAKES A