“You locked the door,” whimpered Faith.
“But why did you not call out? We thought you went straight to bed,” said her uncle.
“I went down to the shore——” began Faith, and then stopped suddenly.
“Well, go straight to bed, and tell your aunt about it in the morning. She is fast asleep now.”
Faith was glad to obey. She was too tired and sleepy to be greatly troubled by what would happen in the morning. She had resolved that if Aunt Prissy questioned her she would tell the truth. But she hoped earnestly that in some way the secret could be kept even from her aunt and uncle, until Mr. Phelps should tell them.
When she came down to breakfast it appeared that her uncle had only told Aunt Prissy that Faith had run out after supper, and, instead of calling and knocking until some one opened the door, had waited until “Scotchie’s” bark had brought him to the door.
Aunt Prissy was more surprised and alarmed at this news than Faith had expected. She cautioned Faith never to go out without telling some one of the family.
“Why, some wolf or wildcat might have been about; or a party of Indians might have happened along and taken you off,” she said. “And we should never have known what had become of you.”
Faith promised never again to leave the house without her aunt’s permission, and was glad indeed that she had escaped without telling of her journey to the fort.
“Aunt Prissy! Do you know what day this is?” she asked, so soberly that her aunt looked at her a little anxiously. “It is the very last day of March; it has been a warm and pleasant month, and my father has not come for me.”