“When it is baked may I fix the shell for a work-basket for Esther?” asked Faith.
“Yes, indeed,” answered Mrs. Carew smilingly. “Your Aunt Prissy was greatly pleased with the one you gave her when she visited here last autumn.”
“I wish I could go to Ticonderoga and visit Aunt Prissy,” said Faith.
“Why, so you shall some day. But ’tis a troublesome journey, since one must be set across the strait,” replied her mother. “But look, child! Can it be that Mr. Eldridge has arrived at this early hour?”
“Yes, indeed. I see his little girl! Look, mother! Father has lifted her down from the horse; and Mr. Eldridge is walking, too! Oh, mother! See the fine hat she has on!” and Faith ran to the open door to get a better look at the little girl who was walking so slowly up the path to the log house.
In a moment the little girl looked up toward the open door and Faith waved her hand.
“She didn’t wave back, mother dear,” exclaimed Faith, and then the travelers were close at hand, and Mrs. Carew was greeting the tall, grave-faced man and welcoming Esther.
“My little girl was so tired that we stopped for the night at your neighbor Stanley’s house, five miles east,” said Mr. Eldridge; “and that is why we are in good season this morning.”
While Mr. Eldridge was speaking Esther held fast to her father’s hand, her large black eyes fixed on Mrs. Carew. Faith looked at her admiringly, wishing that her own eyes were black, and that her feet were small like Esther’s, and that she had a hat with a wide scarlet ribbon.
“Esther, this is Faith,” she heard her mother say, “and she will try and make you so happy here that you will wish to stay all winter.”