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.