et them.

"Her name is Louise Trent, and she is lame. She is older than you,
several years older," answered Aunt Prissy, "and I fear she is a
mischievous child. But the poor girl has not had a mother to care for
her for several years. She and her father live alone."

"Does she look like her father?" questioned Faith, resolving that if
such were the case she would not want Louise for a playmate.

"Oh, no. Louise would be pretty if she were a neat and well-behaved
child. She has soft black hair, black eyes, and is slenderly built.
Too slender, I fear, for health," replied Mrs. Scott, who often
thought of the shoemaker's motherless little girl, whose father
seemed to resent any effort to befriend her.

"Why, that sounds just the way Esther Eldridge looks. Only Esther
isn't lame," responded Faith; and, in answer to her aunt's questions,
Faith described Esther's visit to the cabin, omitting, however, the
fact that she had given Esther the blue beads.

Faith did not think to speak of the red-coated soldier until the
family were gathered about the supper-table that night. Then she
suddenly remembered what he had said, and repeated it to her uncle,
who was asking her about her visit to Mr. Trent's shop.

"So that's their plan. More soldiers to come another summer! 'Twas a
careless thing for an officer to repeat. But they are so sure that
none of us dare lift a hand to protect ourselves that they care not
who knows their plans. I'll see to it that Ethan Allen and the men at
Bennington get word of this," said Mr. Scott, and then asked Faith to
repeat again exactly what the officer had said.

In a few days both of Faith's new dresses were finished; and, greatly
to her delight, Aunt Prissy had made her a pretty cap of blue velvet,
with a partridge's wing on one side. She was trying on the cap before
the mirror in the sitting-room one afternoon when she heard a queer
noise on the porch and then in the front entry. Aunt Prissy was
up-stairs, and the boys were playing outdoors.

"I wonder what it is?" thought Faith, running toward the door. As she
opened it she nearly exclaimed in surprise, for there, leaning on a
crutch, was the queerest little figure she had ever imagined. A little
girl whose black hair straggled over her forehead, and whose big dark
eyes had a half-frightened expression, stood staring in at the
pleasant room. An old ragged shawl was pinned about her shoulders, and
beneath it Faith could see the frayed worn