just as well, for you might
have hurt your blue dress."

Faith sat down on the big sofa thinking to herself that she could
never be happy again. First, and worst of all, was the ruined dress.
Then the remembrance of the way she had been treated by Caroline and
Catherine; and, last of all, her _secrets_!--every one a little more
important and dreadful than the other. First the blue beads; then
Nathan's knowledge of a hidden entrance to Fort Ticonderoga; and then
the dress. She was so taken up with her unhappy thoughts that she did
not realize she had not answered Donald, or spoken to her aunt, until
Donald, who was standing directly in front of her, demanded: "What's
the matter, Cousin Faith? Does your tooth ache?"

Faith shook her head. "I'm tired. I didn't have a good time at all. I
don't like those girls," and, greatly to Donald's alarm, she put her
head on the arm of the sofa and began to cry.

In an instant she felt Aunt Prissy's arm about her, and heard the kind
voice say: "Never mind, dear child. Don't think about them."

After a little Aunt Prissy persuaded Faith to lie down and rest until
supper time.

"I'll sit here with my sewing and keep you company," said Aunt Prissy.
"It's an hour to candle-light."

Donald tiptoed out of the room, but was back in a moment standing in
the doorway and beckoning his mother; and Mrs. Scott went quietly
toward him, closing the door softly behind her.

"It's those girls. The ones Faith went with to the fort," Donald
explained in a whisper. "They're on the door-step."

Caroline and Catherine were standing, very neat and demure, at the
front door.

"Has your little girl got home?" inquired Catherine in her most polite
manner; "she ran off and left us," added Caroline.

"Faith is safe at home," responded Mrs. Scott in a pleasant voice.

"Why didn't you ask them to supper, mother? You said you were going
to," demanded Donald, as he watched the sisters walk down the path.

"Your cousin is too tired for company," said his mother, who had
planned a little festivity for Faith and her friends on their return,
but had quickly decided that her little niece would be better pleased
not to see the sisters again that day.

"All the more cake for us then," said Donald cheerfully, for he
had seen a fine cake on the dining-room table; "there comes the
shoemaker's girl," he added. "Shall you ask her to stay, mother?"

"Yes, indeed," and Mrs. Scott turned to give Louise a cordial we