“I do believe you are silly,” Esther responded. “Do you think your mother will bake the cakes and pies while we are away?”
“Yes,” replied Faith dully. Only that morning she had said to herself how nice it would be to have a girl friend to talk with, but if Esther thought she was “silly”—why, of course, she must not talk. “I’ll let her talk,” resolved Faith.
For a few moments the two little girls walked on in silence, then Esther said suddenly: “Does your mother ever let you boil down maple molasses for candy?”
“Sometimes,” replied Faith.
Esther slipped her little brown hand under Faith’s arm. “Ask her to let us make candy this afternoon. Do. Tell her it will keep me from being lonesome. For my father will be going to Ticonderoga as soon as dinner is over; he will be gone for days. Will you ask her, Faith?”
“Yes, I’ll ask her,” Faith answered.
“I know I’m going to have a fine visit,” declared Esther, with more interest than she had shown since her arrival. “Does your mother ever bake little pies, in saucers, for you?”
“No,” said Faith, still resolved to say no more than was necessary.
“Oh! Doesn’t she? That’s too bad. I wish I had asked her to. Then we could play keep-house in the afternoon, and have the pies to eat. Will your mother make pies again to-morrow?”