of Esther, she recalled that her aunt had spoken of
Louise as "mischievous," and Faith was quite sure that Louise would
never have accepted the beads or have done any of the troublesome
things that had made the first days of Esther's visit so difficult.

"Louise isn't mischievous," she declared suddenly. "What made you
think she was, Aunt Prissy?"

Aunt Prissy was evidently surprised at this sudden change of subject,
but she replied pleasantly:

"I ought not to have said such a thing; but Louise has improved every
day since you became her friend. How does she get on in her learning
to read?"

For Faith stopped at the shoemaker's house every day on her way home
from school to teach Louise; and "Flibbertigibbet," as her father
generally called her, was making good progress.

"She learns so quickly," replied Faith, "and she is learning to write.
I do wish she would go to school, Aunt Prissy," for Louise had become
almost sullen at the suggestion.

Faith did not know that Louise had appeared at the schoolhouse several
years before, and had been so laughed at by some of the rough children
of the village that she had turned on them violently and they had not
dared come near her since. They had vented their spite, however, in
calling, "Witch! Witch! Fly home on your broomstick," as Louise
hobbled off toward home, vowing that never again would she go near a
school, and sobbing herself to sleep that night.

Aunt Prissy had heard something of the unfortunate affair, and was
glad that Louise, when next she appeared at school, would have some
little knowledge to start with and a friend to help her.

"Perhaps she will go next term, now that she has a girl friend to go
with her," responded Mrs. Scott.

Faith was making friends with two girls whose seats in the schoolroom
were next her own. Their names were Caroline and Catherine Young.
Faith was quite sure that they were two of the prettiest girls in the
world, and wondered how it was possible for any one to make such
beautiful dresses and such dainty white ruffled aprons as these two
little girls wore to school. The sisters were very nearly of an age,
and with their soft black curls and bright brown eyes, their flounced
and embroidered dresses with dainty collars of lace, they looked very
different from the more suitably dressed village children.

Caroline was eleven, and Catherine nine years old. But they were far
in advance of the other children of the school.

They