“What makes you think of a storm?” questioned Faith.
“There was a ring around the moon,” said Louise; “that’s one sign, and the air felt like snow.”
But Faith was too happy over the evening to think about weather signs. She had, for that night, quite forgotten about the English soldiers and her resolve to send a message to Ethan Allen.
Louise’s predictions proved right; for when the morning came snow was falling steadily, and great drifts were heaped up against the walls and fences. A chill east wind came sweeping across the ice-bound lake, and it was plain that there would be no more skating for many days.
For nearly a week trails and roads were impassable. Mr. Trent, knowing that Louise was safe and happy with her friends, made no effort to reach her; and the Scotts were glad to keep indoors, safe from the fierce cold and wind.
Donald and Hugh dug a tunnel to the shop, and Mr. Scott kept a path open to the barn, while indoors Aunt Prissy kept the two girls busy and happy. She declared that she had been hoping for a day to dye some recently woven blankets, and asked Faith what color she thought would be best.
“But how can you make any color you like, Aunt Prissy?” asked Faith.
“Perhaps not ‘any color I like,’ but I have a good lot of colors to choose from,” replied Aunt Prissy. “People who live in the wilderness need only to step outdoors to find almost anywhere some plant that furnishes dye, and I gather my dye-plants and roots every summer, as I am sure your own mother does.”
“I know mother always gathers the dogwood roots to make a scarlet dye. Kashaqua told her about that,” answered Faith. “The Indians use it for their feathers.”
“And I am sure your mother dyed your brown dress with the shells of the hickory-nut,” said Aunt Prissy, “and the yellow root is what I used to color the covers on the chair cushions in your room.”