A Little Maid of Ticonderoga

								

before they will be baked?"
Faith stood holding the yellow pumpkin shell, and looking at her
visitor wonderingly.
"All she cares about is something to eat," thought Faith, a little
scornfully, setting the fine pumpkin shell on the table.
Esther's face brightened as she listened to Mrs. Carew's description
of pumpkin cakes, and of pumpkin pies sweetened with maple syrup.
"I think I must teach you to cook, Esther. I am sure you would soon
learn," said Mrs. Carew.
"I guess I wouldn't be strong enough," responded Esther in a listless
tone, going back to the rocking-chair, without even a glance at
Faith's present.
"Come, Esther, let's go down to the mill. I'll show you the big wheel,
and how father raises the water-gate," suggested Faith, who was
beginning to think that a visitor was not such a delightful thing,
after all.
Esther left her chair with a regretful sigh, and followed Faith
out-of-doors.
"Listen!" said Faith. "That rippling, singing noise is the brook."
Esther laughed. "You're funny," she said. "Why should I listen to a
noisy old mill-stream?"
"I thought perhaps you'd like to hear it. I do. Sometimes, just as I
go to sleep, I hear it singing about the stars, and about little foxes
who come down to drink, and about birds...." Faith stopped suddenly,
for Esther was laughing; and as Faith turned to look at her she
realized that Esther cared nothing about the music of the stream.
"I do believe you are silly," Esther responded. "Do you think your
mother will bake the cakes and pies while we are away?"
"Yes," replied Faith dully. Only that morning she had said to herself
how nice it would be to have a girl friend to talk with, but if Esther
thought she was "silly"--why, of course, she must not talk. "I'll let
her talk," resolved Faith.
For a few moments the two little girls walked on in silence, then
Esther said suddenly: "Does your mother ever let you boil down maple
molasses for candy?"
"Sometimes," replied Faith.
Esther slipped her little brown hand under Faith's arm. "Ask her to
let us make candy this afternoon. Do. Tell her it will keep me from
being lonesome. For my father will be going to Ticonderoga as soon as
dinner is over; he will be gone for days. Will you ask her, Faith?"
"Yes, I'll ask her," Faith answered.
"I know I'm going to have a fine visit," declared Esther, with more
interest than she had shown since her arrival. "Does your mother ever
bake little pies, in saucers, for you?"
"No," said Faith, still resolved to say no more than was necessary.
"Oh! Doesn't she? That's too bad. I wish I had asked her to. Then we
could play keep-house in the afternoon, and have the pies to eat. Will
your mother make pies again to-morrow?"
"I don't know," said Faith.
Esther did not care much about the mill. She hardly glanced at the big
water-wheel, and was eager to get back to the house. Several times
she reminded Faith of her promise about the maple candy. Faith had