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."

"And are you so anxious to say good-bye to us, Faithie? You know that instead of your making a visit home your father has decided it is best for you to stay; not come back unless for a visit, until another autumn," responded Aunt Prissy.

"Yes, I know. But why does he not come?" persisted Faith.

"Perhaps to-day will bring him," Aunt Prissy answered hopefully.

Faith came and stood close beside Aunt Prissy's chair. She wanted to say that she loved her cousins and uncle and Aunt Prissy very dearly; to tell her that she had been happy; and that it had been a beautiful visit; but that now she wanted to see her own dear mother more than anything else. But how could she say all this so that Aunt Prissy would understand?

Aunt Prissy put down her knitting and drew the little girl into her lap.

"There! Now tell me all about it, dear," she said, resting her face against Faith's yellow curls.

And Faith told her all that she had been thinking; all that she had thought would be so difficult. And Aunt Prissy listened, saying, "Of course," and "Yes, indeed," from time to time, and understanding even more than Faith found words to tell.

"Why, Aunt Prissy, it's almost like having two homes," concluded Faith.

Before Aunt Prissy could answer there was the sound of voices in the kitchen, and Donald, closely followed by Mr. Carew, came into the room.

"It's the very last day of March!" Faith reminded him.

"And I came near not getting here to-day," her father replied, as Faith drew him to the big chair near the window, and climbed to a seat on his knees. "I was held up on the trail by a tall fellow, from Connecticut, as it proved. He was bound to make me own up that I was an English spy. I told him my name, and my errand, and when I spoke Faith's name, why, he was at once my best friend, told me of his visit at this house, and could not say enough in praise of my little daughter," responded Mr. Carew.

"The Americans seem to be gaining courage," said Aunt Prissy. "The men of the Wilderness do not mean to let the other Colonies do all the fighting, I'm sure."

"Indeed we'll do our part, Priscilla," her brother assured her.

Faith told her father of the disappearance of Mr. Trent and Louise; of the quilting party, and of all the happenings since his November visit. But she did not tell him of guiding the Connecticut man to the pathway up the cliff to Fort Ticonderoga.

It was evident that Mr. Phelps had kept the secret for some purpose of his own; so, much as she wanted her father to know, Faith resolved that she would not tell him. This secret did not worry and trouble her as the others had done. "I guess it's because this secret means helping somebody, and the others were just—well, just mean secrets," Faith decided, as she thought it over.

The next morning Faith and her father were ready to start at an early hour. Uncle Phil, Aunt Prissy, the boys and "Scotchie" walked with them to the shore.

"You will come back when summer comes, won't you, Cousin Faith?" said Donald. "You'll come for a visit even if you don't stay and go to school."

"I will if I can," Faith promised, "and when Louise comes back give her the blue beads, Aunt Prissy."

"Yes, indeed, dear child," responded her aunt, wondering to herself if Louise and her father would ever again be seen in that vicinity. Then there were messages for Faith's mother, and not until she was in the canoe were the good-byes really said.

The little group stood on the shore watching the canoe for some minutes, and then turned back toward the house. They were all very quiet, but as they reached the road Donald called out: "There's somebody on our door-step! Why, it is Louise! Yes, it is," and with a gay call he was off, running swiftly toward the house while the others hurried after him.

"Where is Faith?" Louise asked eagerly, when Mrs. Scott had welcomed her, and they were in the big kitchen.

"She's gone home," said Donald, before his mother could answer. But Mrs. Scott told the little girl of how much Faith had missed her, and of the string of blue beads that she had left to be given to Louise.

It was evident that Louise was greatly disappointed to find that her friend had gone. But she fastened the beads about her neck, and touched them with loving fingers.

"Faith was my very first friend," she said. "My father says that we have come back to stay," she added, "and perhaps Faith will come in the summer?" There was such a pleading, questioning look in the girl's dark eyes that Mrs. Scott felt a new tenderness and sympathy for her, and put her arm about Louise as she answered:

"Perhaps she will. But you must come often and see me; for we shall both miss her very much."

"Oh, may I, Mrs. Scott? I was afraid you wouldn't want me to come," and Louise's face brightened.

"Why, I am to help you with your studies, and Donald is to call for you when you begin school. Faith arranged all that," responded Mrs. Scott smilingly.

Faith was silent as the canoe went swiftly across the lake, and they had nearly reached the shore before she began asking questions about "Bounce," whom her father declared to be now a "grown-up cat," and about all the familiar things about the house and mill.

"Listen, father!" she said, as they landed, and he drew the canoe to its hiding-place in the alder bushes. "Hear the falls!" and for a moment the two stood quietly hearkening to the "Chiming Waters."

Then Mr. Carew adjusted the pack, containing Faith's belongings, picked up his musket, without which no woodsman dared travel in those days, and they started up the trail.

Everywhere were evidences that spring was near at hand. Many trees and shrubs were showing the delicate gray green of coming buds; and now and then the fragrance of the wild arbutus was in the air. Birds were busy; wood-thrushes and pewees were calling; now and then a golden-throated warbler sounded his clear note. The air was soft and warm for the season, and Faith was so happy in the thought of being really on her way home that she forgot for a time that Mr. Phelps had said that no American settler's home in the Wilderness could be safe until Fort Ticonderoga was held by American soldiers.

"It's lovely to be going home, isn't it, father?" she said; and Mr. Carew smiled down at his little daughter, and agreed with her that nothing better could be desired.

"We shall see with glad surprise Lilies spring, and verdure rise; And soon, amidst the wilds, we'll hear Murmuring waters falling clear,"—

sang Mr. Carew softly.

"Oh, that is mother's song," exclaimed Faith. "It just means home, doesn't it?" And again her father was quite ready to agree.

They walked slowly up the rocky trail and when they reached the top of the first ridge they stopped to rest and eat the excellent lunch that Aunt Prissy had prepared for them. But Faith declared that she was not tired. It seemed to her that she could run all the way if her father would only permit. And when in the early afternoon she first heard the sound of the mill-stream she did run, until, out of breath, she had to rest on a moss-grown stump for her father to catch up with her.

And then, in a short time, they were standing on the edge of the clearing. The brook was dancing and singing as if eager to welcome Faith; the sun shone warmly down on mill and cabin and running down the path came Mrs. Carew; while standing near the cabin was Kashaqua, in her gayest feathers, grunting and smiling.

"Mother dear! Mother dear!" called Faith, as she ran forward and was held close in her mother's arms.



CHAPTER XIX

FAITH WRITES A LETTER

Kashaqua was evidently delighted to see Faith safely at home once more. She had brought a present for her little friend; and after Faith had talked to her mother, and yet, as she declared, had "not begun to tell her" all she had to tell, Kashaqua unrolled a soft bundle and spread out the skin of a black bear cub. It was hardly larger than the skin of a good-sized puppy; but the fur was so soft and glossy that Faith and her mother exclaimed admiringly over its beauty, and Faith said that she would take the greatest care of it. She questioned Kashaqua about "Nooski," the tame bear which had followed them on their journey to Ticonderoga.

"Gone!" replied Kashaqua, and had no more to tell of the wild creature that she had tamed, and, suddenly, Kashaqua disappeared in her usual silent fashion without a sign or word of farewell.

Faith was tired, and quite satisfied to rest on the big settle and talk to her mother, while "Bounce," steady and well-behaved, curled up on the hearth rug. Faith told her mother about Louise; about Caroline and Catherine and their mischief, and of the quilting party. She told her about Nathan Beaman, and of the skating on the lake, and how the English soldiers had extinguished the fire and spoiled their fun. But she did not tell her of the evening when she had guided Mr. Phelps up the moonlit lake to the foot of the cliff, and told him how to make his way into the fort. Some time, she resolved, her mother should know all about it; but she still felt that she must keep it a secret.

Mrs. Carew asked many questions about the fort.

"There is more travel over the trails than ever before," she told the little girl, "and we hardly know who are our friends. The English are sending their spies everywhere. Be very cautious, Faithie, and say nothing to any stranger that you have ever been near Fort Ticonderoga. This part of the country will not be safe until American soldiers take the place of the English in the fort."

"Oh, mother dear, I hope they will soon. I wish that I could help take the fort."

"Who knows but you may help in some way, when the right time comes," her mother responded, smiling at her little daughter's eagerness. "Now, I am going out to get something for you. Something that you will like very much," she added, and left Faith alone.

Faith closed her eyes, wondering happily what it was that her mother would bring. She thought of the caraway cookies, of the little round pies made of the dried pumpkin, and then a noise at the door made her open her eyes. For an instant she believed that she must be asleep and dreaming, for Esther Eldridge was standing in the door—Esther grown taller and stronger, with red cheeks and shining eyes.

"Yes, it's really Esther," Mrs. Carew called over the little girl's shoulder, and Esther ran toward the settle as Faith started forward to meet her.

"Isn't this a fine surprise?" Esther exclaimed. "I was so afraid you would hear about our living here before you got home."

"Living here?" questioned Faith, looking so puzzled that both Mrs. Carew and Esther laughed aloud.

"Yes! yes, indeed! My father and mother and I," answered Esther delightedly.

"But where? I have been up-stairs, and all over the house and I didn't see anybody, or anything," said Faith.

"Oh, we live in our own house—a house just like this; or it will be just like this when it is all finished," and Esther told of her father's decision to bring his family to the Wilderness to live. He had purchased a grant of land adjoining that held by Mr. Carew soon after Esther's visit in September. The timber for the cabin had been cut early in the winter, and the cabin begun, and now it was nearly finished. "We moved last week," said Esther, "and you can see our house from your back door."

Faith forgot all about being tired and ran to the back door to look. Yes, there it was; the big new cabin, near the path down which Ethan Allen had led her home, when, angry at Esther, she had run off to the woods.

"Isn't it splendid! Oh, Esther, it is the very best thing that ever happened," Faith declared; "isn't it, mother dear?"

Mrs. Carew was quite ready to agree with her little daughter. "Good neighbors was the only thing we really lacked," she agreed, "and perhaps others will come when there is better protection for their safety."

The two little friends had much to tell each other, and when Esther started for home Faith walked with her as far as the mill. From the mill the new cabin could be clearly seen.

"Do you remember asking me if I listened to the brook?" Esther asked laughingly, as they stood looking at the dancing waters of the stream. "Well, I know now just what you meant. It's company, isn't it?"

Then Faith told her of the "Chiming Waters" of Ticonderoga, and of some of the old tales of the lake that her aunt and Nathan had related.

"Did you see the English soldiers?" questioned Esther.

"Oh, yes." And Faith described the skating party on the lake that the redcoats had interfered with. "I wish I could see Ethan Allen, as I did that day in September, and tell him all about the fort and the soldiers, and ask him to drive the English away. My father says that Colonel Allen could drive them away," said Faith.

"Of course he could! My father says so, too," agreed Esther. "Would it not be a fine thing for us to send him a letter, Faith, and ask him?"

"Oh, Esther! That's just what I thought of. But we ought to do it right away, for more soldiers are coming to the fort, Nathan Beaman says, and then it won't be so easy," responded Faith.

The two little girls talked earnestly. They both knew of the cave on the rocky slope near Lake Dunmore, and that messages were sometimes left there for the settlers. But Lake Dunmore was a long distance away.

"It would take all day to go and get back," said Esther, "and our mothers would never let us go; you know they wouldn't."

"One of us ought to go to-morrow," answered Faith, "but how can we plan it?"

"I know! I know!" declared Esther. "I'll ask your mother if you may come for a visit, and then you'll go home at night. Some time you can tell her all about it," concluded Esther as she noticed Faith's serious and doubtful expression.

"And what will you do? Don't you mean to go with me?" asked Faith.

"Oh, yes! I'll tell my mother I am going to spend the day with you. Then we'll start off in good season, and we'll get home before our mothers miss us," said Esther.

"Faith! Faith!" and Mrs. Carew's voice sounded through the clear air.

"I must run back now. I'll write the letter to-night and be over near your house as early as I can in the morning," said Faith.

"Hide behind the big pine," said Esther, and the two friends, greatly excited over their project, separated and ran toward their respective homes.

It was not easy for Faith to write the letter, for she would have to ask her mother for the quill pen, and the bottle of ink, made from the juice of the pokeberry. But in the early evening, while her mother was busy, Faith secured the quill and ink and a sheet of the treasured paper and wrote her letter:

"Dear Mr. Colonel Ethan Allen," she wrote. "Will you please send the English soldiers away from Fort Ticonderoga? Nathan Beaman, who lives at Shoreham, will show you how to get in. Please send them soon, or more will come.

"Respectfully your friend,

"FAITH CAREW."

She had time to fold and seal the letter with the big stick of red wax, softening the wax before the sitting-room fire. A moment later and her mother came in, saying she had best go to bed and get a good night's rest.

"May I spend to-morrow, all day, with Esther?" asked Faith, as her mother went up-stairs with her, and feeling her face flush with the consciousness of not telling her mother all the truth.

"Your very first day at home, dear child! Why, I should be running over to Mrs. Eldridge's every hour to make sure that you were really within reach," responded her mother.

"Oh, mother, you wouldn't!" said Faith, so earnestly that Mrs. Carew smiled reassuringly and said:

"Well, perhaps not every hour. But if you want to spend the day with Esther you may. 'Tis not as if you were going back to Aunt Prissy in a week."

"And you won't come to Mrs. Eldridge's at all, will you, mother dear?" pleaded Faith. "I'll be safe, and I'll come home early."

"You shall do as you like, dear child. I know you will do nothing but what will please me," and Mrs. Carew leaned over to kiss Faith good-night.

"Oh, dear," Faith whispered to herself guiltily, as her mother went down the stairs. "Here is another secret, the biggest of all. But I can't tell mother."

The song of the brook seemed louder than ever before to the little girl that night, as she lay watching the April stars shine through her window. She remembered that her mother had said that perhaps a little girl could help. "Mother dear is sure to be glad when she knows that Colonel Allen had to be told about Nathan," thought Faith; and then the brook's song grew softer and softer and she was fast asleep.

Faith was down-stairs the next morning almost as soon as her father and mother. She had on her brown dress and her moccasins, and the letter was safely hidden in her pocket. She could hardly keep still long enough to eat her breakfast.

"Esther wanted me to come early, mother dear, and I promised," she urged; so her mother bade her be off, and stood in the door and watched the little girl run down the slope, feeling a little disappointed that Faith should be so eager to be with Esther instead of remaining at home.

But early as it was Faith found Esther waiting for her.

"Did you bring anything to eat?" asked Esther.

"I never thought of it!" replied Faith, "and I don't believe I could, anyway."

"Well, I thought of it. I have a fine square of corn cake, a piece of cold venison, and a square of molasses cake," said Esther, holding up a small basket. "Now, creep along on the edge of the trail until we are well up the ridge. Then we can walk as we please."

Faith obeyed. She thought to herself how fortunate it was that Esther had come to live in the Wilderness, and that she was ready to help carry the message.

"Isn't it lovely in the woods!" said Esther, as they reached the summit of the ridge, and turned to look back down the winding trail. "Father said this morning that the spring was early, and 'tis surely warm as summer."

As they rested for a little while on a bank of firm green moss Faith told Esther of "Nooski's" sudden appearance when she and Kashaqua were on their journey to the lake.

"Goodness!" exclaimed Esther, peering anxiously into the underbrush. "I hope we shan't see any bears to-day, not even a tame one."

The sun was high in the April skies when the two little girls came in sight of Lake Dunmore. The trail led near the lake; and Esther was very sure that she knew just where to look for the cave.

"It's near a big pine tree, and you can only see rocks. Father showed me when we came from Brandon," she said.

The little girls were very tired and hungry, and Faith suggested that they should eat their luncheon and rest before searching for the cave.

"I wish I had brought more corn bread," said Esther, when they had finished the last morsel of the food.

"It's lucky you brought as much as you did," responded Faith. "We'd better begin looking for the cave now."

It was hard work climbing up the rocky hillside, and it did not seem such an easy matter to locate the cave as Esther had expected. They peered under rocks, and climbed over ledges, and were nearly discouraged when a sudden noise made Faith grasp Esther's arm with a whispered "Hush"; for almost in front of them, apparently coming directly out of the hillside, appeared the head and shoulders of a man. But they were too near to conceal themselves or to try and run away.

"Great Caesar's Ghost!" exclaimed the man, crawling out from the cave. "Two little maids! Where did you come from?"

Faith's hold on Esther's arm tightened. "Don't tell. Don't answer his questions," she whispered, remembering her mother's caution about strangers, and thinking perhaps this might be an English spy who had discovered the cave.

"Where are the others?" asked the man.

Esther looked questioningly at Faith, but neither of them spoke.

The man's stern face softened as he looked at the two little figures. He realized they must be the children of some settler in the Wilderness—perhaps children who had wandered too far from home and lost their way.

"You need not be afraid to speak," he said smilingly. "Perhaps I know your fathers. Tell me your names."

Faith was quite sure that this was a question which could be safely answered, so both the little girls spoke their names, and instantly the man responded by saying:

"Then you," and he nodded to Faith, "are Miller Carew's daughter. I know your father well. Tell him Seth Warner has been in Salisbury and is now starting back to Bennington. But how come you this distance from home?"

Both Faith and Esther knew that Seth Warner was a friend of the settlers, and before he had finished speaking Faith was quite ready to tell him their errand and to give the note for Colonel Allen into his hands.

He listened in evident amazement to the story of their morning's journey, for he well knew the dangers of the wilderness trail.

"I will go with you to within sight of your homes," insisted their new friend, "and I shall not forget to tell Colonel Allen of your courage."

"Will he come soon and take the fort?" asked Faith.

"More quickly for your help than without it, little maid. But go not so far from home again," Mr. Warner answered, with a kindly smile.

It was sunset, and Mr. Carew was starting to bring Faith home from her visit to Esther, when he saw his little daughter coming down the path. She walked so slowly that her father hastened to meet her.

"I'm so tired, father," she said. "Couldn't you carry me home?"

"Of course I can," and he lifted her in his arms and, anxious and worried by her pale face and evident fatigue, hurried toward the house.



CHAPTER XX

THE CAPTURE OF THE FORT

It was noon the next day when Faith awoke; and although she was quite ready to dress and go down-stairs, her mother thought it best for her to stay in bed.

Faith wondered to herself if Esther's feet ached as hers did; and, more than this, she was anxious to know if their parents had any idea of where she and Esther had spent the previous day.

"There will be so much for me to tell mother," she thought, a little uneasily, hoping that soon she would again have no secrets to conceal.

When Faith came down-stairs she found Esther waiting to see her; and, in response to Faith's questioning look, she nodded and smiled reassuringly. Esther had brought over her English grammar, for it had been decided that the two little girls were to study together two hours each day; one day at Faith's house, and the next at Esther's.

"It's all right; our mothers don't know. But what made you so tired?" said Esther, as soon as the girls were alone.

Faith shook her head. "I don't know. I do hope we can tell all about it soon. I've a great mind to tell mother now."

"You mustn't. Don't you remember? Mr. Warner said that soon he would tell our fathers, and they would be proud of us. But if we tell them now they won't be proud; they will be vexed, and maybe punish us. Wait until Colonel Allen tells them that you helped him. Then 'twill be all right," advised Esther, and Faith agreed, a little doubtfully.

It was difficult for the two little girls to fix their minds on their lessons that day, and for many days to come. They both watched the trail, each day expecting to see some messenger who would bring news that Colonel Allen was in possession of Fort Ticonderoga; but April passed, and Esther declared that she did not believe the Americans wanted the fort.

"I am going to tell my mother everything. All about our going to Lake Dunmore, and my letter, and something else," declared Faith.

It was one day early in May, and she and Esther were coming up from Beaver meadow, where they had been watching the little creatures, who Were very active and did not seem to fear the two little figures at the edge of the woods. The beavers were building a dam; they had dragged trees to the side of the stream, and it seemed a very wonderful thing to Esther when she saw the beavers sink one end of these stakes, while others raised and fastened the other end, twisting in the small branches of the trees, and plastering mud over all with their feet and tails. She was thinking to herself that there were more strange things to see in the Wilderness in one day than in a whole year in a village, when she felt Faith seize her arm and say laughingly:

"You haven't heard a word. Now, listen! I am going to tell my mother."

The little girls were now in sight of the clearing, and, before Esther could answer, Faith stopped suddenly and exclaimed:

"Look, Esther! There's a man just leaving the mill, and running up the trail as fast as he can go. A stranger."

Quite forgetting beavers and secrets the two little girls ran toward the house. "There's my father," said Esther as they reached the door.

Mr. and Mrs. Eldridge were both in the kitchen of the Carew house, and none of the elder people appeared to notice the two girls.

Mr. Carew was loading his musket, and Faith's mother was packing a knapsack with provisions.

"Here are the children," said Mrs. Eldridge, as she turned toward the door; and then Esther saw that her father was waiting for Mr. Carew.

"Faithie dear, your father is going to Castleton," said Mrs. Carew, fastening the knapsack, and in a moment Faith was held close in her father's arms, and then the two men were off, striding down the trail.

"Are they going to take Ticonderoga?" Faith questioned eagerly.

The two women looked at her in surprise, but Mrs. Carew answered quickly:

"Of course they are. Americans are guarding the trail, so we are safe enough at present. But neither of you girls must go beyond the clearing."

"When shall we know about the fort, mother? When will we know?" asked Faith.

"Soon, I hope, child. But talk not of it now," responded her mother.

But after a little Mrs. Eldridge told them that a messenger had come from Bennington, summoning the settlers to Castleton to meet Colonel Allen. Faith and Esther listened to the story of the far-off battle of Lexington, in Massachusetts, the news of which had determined the Green Mountain Boys to make an immediate attack on the fort. These men were the settlers of the New Hampshire Grants, living long distances apart, and obliged to travel over rough trails, through deep forests, across rivers and mountains.

There were no smooth roads or fleet horses to help them on their way; there was little time for preparation when Allen's summons came; they had no uniforms, no strains of music; but no truer soldiers ever faced danger than the Green Mountain Boys.

That night Faith told her mother the story of her adventure in the fort, when Nathan had rescued her and taken her down the cliff. She told of the evening in March when she had guided Mr. Phelps along the moonlit shore of the lake and told him of the entrance to the fort; and last of all she described her journey with Esther over the trail to Lake Dunmore, and the letter to Ethan Allen which she had given to Seth Warner.

Mrs. Carew listened in amazement; but she had no word of blame for Faith. She realized the dangers the child had so unknowingly faced with a sense that her little girl had been guarded by a protection greater than any by which she could have surrounded her; and she wondered, too, if it were not possible that Faith might not really have helped in the great undertaking for which her father was ready to give all that he had to give.

"Mother dear, I despise secrets," Faith whispered, as she finished the story, "and I mean never to have another one."

Three days later Mr. Carew came swinging across the clearing. He waved his cap in the air as Faith came running to meet him.

"Ticonderoga is ours," he called, "and the English prisoners are on their way to Hartford. And so it was you, little maid, who helped Phelps to a plan of the fort, and told Ethan Allen of young Beaman!"

"Did it help, father? Did it help?" Faith asked eagerly.

"Help? Indeed it did. Young Beaman led the way to the fort, and we were in without firing a shot. And Colonel Allen and his men hold the fort," replied Mr. Carew.

He could stay for but a few hours, as he was carrying the news to the settlements. It was several days before he was at home again, and told them more fully of Allen's triumph, and of the capture of Crown Point by Seth Warner and his followers.

Toward the last of May Aunt Prissy, accompanied by Nathan Beaman, arrived at the log cabin, and Faith heard the story of Louise's arrival at Ticonderoga.

"Her father has been taken a prisoner to Hartford, and Louise will stay with me," Aunt Prissy said. "I will adopt her for my own daughter if her father consents."

"I do hope he will," said Faith, glad indeed to know that her friend was safe.

"And so my little Faith did help take the fort after all, thanks to Nathan," said Aunt Prissy, smiling down at her little niece.

"'Twas Faith who really helped, for she told Colonel Allen about me," Nathan added handsomely.

All this made Faith a very happy little girl; but when, a few weeks later, a messenger brought her a letter from Ethan Allen himself, she felt that no other little girl in all the American Colonies could be as proud as Faith Carew. She confessed to her mother that, after all, some secrets were worth keeping. Colonel Allen invited her to make a visit to the fort, and it was arranged that her father should take her to Ticonderoga and that she should stay for a few days with Aunt Prissy.

So once again she went over the trail and crossed the lake, and on a pleasant June morning with her father and Aunt Prissy, she stood again at the entrance to Fort Ticonderoga. This time she was not left alone, as on her first visit, a frightened deserted child. For it was Colonel Allen himself, tall and handsome, who met the little party at the entrance and escorted them about the fortifications.

"'Faith,'" he said kindly, as he bade them good-bye, "'tis indeed the best of names for a little American girl; a name that I shall ever remember."

Faith was very quiet as they walked toward home. She was thinking to herself of all the happy experiences of the past weeks; and not until she saw Louise waiting for her at Aunt Prissy's gate did her face lose its serious expression. She ran ahead of the others and called out: "Louise! Louise! You will be Aunt Prissy's little girl, won't you? Because then you'll really be an American."

Louise nodded happily.

"Yes; and father is going to be an American, too. Didn't Aunt Prissy tell you?" she responded; "and it's all because you were my friend, Faith," she added more soberly, as the two girls entered the house, and stood hand in hand at the door where, but a few months ago, Louise had entered a ragged, unhappy child.

"We'll always be friends, shan't we!" said Faith, and Louise earnestly responded:

"Always."



The stories in this series are:

A LITTLE MAID OF PROVINCE TOWN A LITTLE MAID OF MASSACHUSETTS COLONY A LITTLE MAID OF NARRAGANSETT BAY A LITTLE MAID OF BUNKER HILL A LITTLE MAID OF TICONDEROGA A LITTLE MAID OF OLD CONNECTICUT A LITTLE MAID OF OLD MAINE A LITTLE MAID OF OLD NEW YORK A LITTLE MAID OF OLD PHILADELPHIA A LITTLE MAID OF VIRGINIA A LITTLE MAID OF MARYLAND A LITTLE MAID OF MOHAWK VALLEY A LITTLE MAID OF MONMOUTH A LITTLE MAID OF NANTUCKET A LITTLE MAID OF VERMONT



TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE:

Minor changes have been made to correct typesetters' errors; otherwise, every effort has been made to remain true to the author's words and intent.

THE END