“You must. I’ll go first, then;” and in a moment Faith was swinging from the windowsill, had dropped to the ground, and was speeding down the path to the mill, while Esther, frightened and helpless, leaned out screaming at the top of her voice.
Mrs. Carew was just leaving the mill when she saw Faith racing toward her. “A bear! A bear in our kitchen,” she called.
“Hugh!” called Mrs. Carew, and Mr. Carew came running from the mill to hear the story.
“It’s lucky I keep a musket at the mill,” he said. “Here, you take Faith into the mill and fasten the door on the inside. I’ll attend to the bear,” and he was off, racing toward the house, while Mrs. Carew hurried Faith into the mill and shut the heavy door.
“I do hope Esther will stay in the chamber until your father gets there,” said Mrs. Carew anxiously. “I do not believe the bear will venture up the stairs.”
“He was after the syrup,” said Faith, “and if he tried the stairs Esther could drop out of the window.”
It was not long before they heard the loud report of the musket.
“Mayn’t we open the door now, mother dear?” asked Faith.
“Not yet, Faithie. We’ll wait a little,” and Faith realized that her mother’s arm trembled as she drew the girl to her side.
There was silence for what seemed a very long time to Mrs. Carew and Faith, and then they heard Mr. Carew calling; “All right, open the door. Here is Esther safe and sound.”