Faith sat down on the big sofa thinking to herself that she could never be happy again. First, and worst of all, was the ruined dress. Then the remembrance of the way she had been treated by Caroline and Catherine; and, last of all, her secrets!—every one a little more important and dreadful than the other. First the blue beads; then Nathan’s knowledge of a hidden entrance to Fort Ticonderoga; and then the dress. She was so taken up with her unhappy thoughts that she did not realize she had not answered Donald, or spoken to her aunt, until Donald, who was standing directly in front of her, demanded: “What’s the matter, Cousin Faith? Does your tooth ache?”
Faith shook her head. “I’m tired. I didn’t have a good time at all. I don’t like those girls,” and, greatly to Donald’s alarm, she put her head on the arm of the sofa and began to cry.
In an instant she felt Aunt Prissy’s arm about her, and heard the kind voice say: “Never mind, dear child. Don’t think about them.”
After a little Aunt Prissy persuaded Faith to lie down and rest until supper time.
“I’ll sit here with my sewing and keep you company,” said Aunt Prissy. “It’s an hour to candle-light.”
Donald tiptoed out of the room, but was back in a moment standing in the doorway and beckoning his mother; and Mrs. Scott went quietly toward him, closing the door softly behind her.
“It’s those girls. The ones Faith went with to the fort,” Donald explained in a whisper. “They’re on the door-step.”
Caroline and Catherine were standing, very neat and demure, at the front door.
“Has your little girl got home?” inquired Catherine in her most polite manner; “she ran off and left us,” added Caroline.
“Faith is safe at home,” responded Mrs. Scott in a pleasant voice.