LOUISE
"I must go home," said Louise, with a little sigh at having to end the
most pleasant visit she ever remembered. The two little girls had
finished the lunch, and had played happily with "Lady Amy." Mrs. Scott
had left them quite by themselves, and not even the small cousins had
come near the sitting-room.
As Louise spoke she took off the blue velvet cap, which she had worn
all the afternoon, and began to untie the hair ribbon.
"Oh, Louise! Don't take off that hair ribbon. I gave it to you. It's a
present," exclaimed Faith.
Louise shook her head. "Father won't let me keep it," she answered.
"He wouldn't like it if he knew that I had eaten anything in this
house. He is always telling me that if people offer to give me
anything I must never, never take it."
Before Faith could speak Aunt Prissy came into the room.
"Tell your father I will come in and pay him for Faith's shoes
to-morrow, Louise," she said pleasantly, "and you must come and see
Faith again."
"Yes'm. Thank you," responded Louise shyly, and nodding to Faith with
a look of smiling understanding, the crippled child made her way
quickly from the room.
"Aunt Prissy, I like Louise Trent. I don't believe she is a
mischievous girl. Just think, she never had a doll in her life! And
her father won't let her take presents!" Faith had so much to say that
she talked very rapidly.
"I see," responded her aunt, taking up the rumpled hair ribbon which
Louise had refused. "I am glad you were so kind to the poor child,"
she added, smiling down at her little niece. "Tell me all you can
about Louise. Perhaps there will be some way to make her life
happier."
So Faith told her aunt that Louise could not read. That she had never
before tasted fruit cake, and that she had no playmates, and had never
had a present. "Why do you suppose she came to see me, Aunt Prissy?"
she concluded.
"I cannot imagine. Unless it was because you are a stranger," replied
Aunt Prissy. "I have an idea that I can arrange with Mr. Trent so that
he will be willing for me to make Louise a dress, and get for her the
things she ought to have. For the shoemaker is no poorer than most of
his neighbors. How would you like to teach Louise to read?"
"I'd like to! Oh, Aunt Prissy, tell me your plan!" responded Faith
eagerly.
"Wait until I am sure it is a good plan, Faithie dear," her aunt
replied. "I'll go down and see Mr. Trent to-morrow. I blame myself
that I have not tried to be of use to that child."
"May I go with you?" urged Faith.
"Why, yes. You can visit Louise while I talk with her father, since he
asked you to come."
"Has the Witch gone?" called Donald, running into the room. "Didn't
you know that all the children call the Trent girl a witch?" he asked
his mother.
"No, Donald. But if they do they ought to be ashamed. She is a little
girl without any mother to care for her. And now she is your cousin's
friend, and we hope to see her here often. And you must always be
polite and kind to her," replied Mrs. Scott.
Donald looked a little doubtful and puzzled.
"You ought to be more kind to her than to any other child, because she
is lame," said Faith.
"All right. But what is a 'witch,' anyway?" responded Donald.
"It is a wicked word," answered his mother briefly. "See that you do
not use it again."
Faith's thoughts were now so filled with Louise that she nearly lost
her interest in the new dresses and shoes, and was eager for the next
day to come so that she could again see her new friend.
Faith had been taught to sew neatly, and she wondered if she could not
help make Louise a dress. "And perhaps Aunt Prissy will teach her how
to make cake," she thought; for never to taste of cake seemed to Faith
to be a real misfortune. For the first night since her arrival at her
aunt's home Faith went to sleep without a homesick longing for the
cabin in the Wilderness, and awoke the next morning thinking about all
that could be done for the friendless little girl who could not accept
a present.
"We will go to Mr. Trent's as soon as our morning work is finished,"
said Aunt Prissy, "and you shall wear your new shoes and cap. And I
have a blue cape which I made for you before you came. The morning is
chilly. You had best wear that."
"I don't look like Faith Carew, I am so fine," laughed the little
girl, looking down at her shoes, and touching the soft cloth of the
pretty blue cape.
As they walked along Faith told Aunt Prissy of her plans to teach
Louise to sew, as well as to read. "And perhaps you'll show her how to
make cake! Will you, Aunt Prissy?"
"Of course I will, if I can get the chance," replied her aunt.
The shoemaker greeted them pleasantly. Before Mrs. Scott could say
anything of her errand he began to apologize for his daughter's visit.
"She slipped off without my knowing it. It shan't happen again," he
said.
"But Faith will be very sorry if it doesn't happen again," replied
Aunt Prissy. "Can she not run in and see Louise while I settle with
you for the shoes?"
The shoemaker looked at her sharply for a moment, and then motioned
Faith to follow him, leading the way across the shop toward a door on
the further side of the room. The shop occupied the front room of the
shoemaker's house. The two back rooms, with the chambers above, was
where Louise and her father made their home.
Mr. Trent opened the door and said: "You'll find her in there," and
Faith stepped into the queerest room that she had ever seen, and the
door closed behind her. Louise was standing, half-hidden by a clumsy
wooden chair. The shawl was still pinned about her shoulders.
"This ain't much like your aunt's house, is it? I guess you won't ever
want to come again. And my father says I can't ever go to see you
again. He says I don't look fit," said Louise.
But Faith's eyes had brightened, and she was looking at the further
side of the room and smiling with delight. "Oh, Louise! Why didn't you
tell me that you had a gray kitten? And it looks just like 'Bounce,'"
and in a moment she had picked up the pretty kitten, and was sitting
beside Louise on a roughly made wooden seat, telling her of her own
kitten, while Louise eagerly described the cleverness of her own pet.
"What's its name?" asked Faith.
"Just 'kitten,'" answered Louise, as if surprised at the question.
"But it must have a real name," insisted Faith, and it was finally
decided that it should be named "Jump," the nearest approach to the
name of Faith's kitten that they could imagine.
The floor of the room was rough and uneven, and not very clean. There
was a table, the big chair and the wooden seat. Although the morning
was chilly there was no fire in the fireplace, although there was a
pile of wood in one corner. There was but one window, which looked
toward the lake.
"Come out in the kitchen, where it's warm," suggested Louise, after a
few moments, and Faith was glad to follow her.
"Don't you want to try on my new cape?" asked Faith, as they reached
the kitchen, a much pleasanter room than the one they had left.
Louise shook her head. "I daresn't," she replied. "Father may come in.
And he'd take my head off."
"You are coming to see me, Louise. Aunt Prissy is talking to your
father about it now," said Faith; but Louise was not to be convinced.
"He won't let me. You'll see," she answered mournfully. "_I_ know.
He'll think your aunt is 'Charity.' Why, he won't make shoes any more
for the minister because his wife brought me a dress; and I didn't
wear the dress, either."
But there was a surprise in store for Louise, for when Mrs. Scott and
Mr. Trent entered the kitchen the shoemaker was smiling; and it seemed
to Faith that he stood more erect, and did not look so much like the
picture of the orang-outang.
"Louise, Mrs. Scott and I have been making a bargain," he said. "I am
going to make shoes for her boys, and she is going to make dresses for
my girl. Exchange work; I believe that's right, isn't it, ma'am?" and
he turned to Mrs. Scott with a little bow.
"Yes, it is quite right. And I'll send you the bill for materials,"
said Aunt Prissy.
"Of course. Well, Louise, I warrant you're old enough to have proper
dresses. And Mrs. Scott will take you home to stay with her until you
are all fixed up as fine as this little maid," and the shoemaker
nodded to Faith.
"Do you mean I'm to stay up there?" asked Louise, pointing in the
direction of the Scotts' house. "I can't. Who'd take care of you,
father?"
Mr. Trent seemed to stand very straight indeed as Louise spoke, and
Faith was ashamed that she had ever thought he resembled the ugly
picture in her mother's book.
"She's a good child," he said as if whispering to himself; but he
easily convinced Louise that, for a few days, he could manage to take
care of himself; and at last Louise, happy and excited over this
change in her fortunes, hobbled off beside Mrs. Scott and Faith, while
her father stood in the shop doorway looking after them.
It was a very differently dressed little daughter who returned to him
at the end of the following week. She wore a neat brown wool dress,
with a collar and cuffs of scarlet cloth, a cape of brown, and a cap
of brown with a scarlet wing on one side. These, with her well-made,
well-fitting shoes, made Louise a very trim little figure in spite of
her lameness. Her hair, well brushed and neatly braided, was tied
back with a scarlet ribbon. A bundle containing underwear, aprons,
handkerchiefs, and hair ribbons of various colors, as well as a stout
cotton dress for Louise to wear indoors, arrived at the shoemaker's
house with the little girl.
Her father looked at her in amazement. "Why, Flibbertigibbet, you are
a pretty girl," he declared, and was even more amazed at the gay laugh
with which Louise answered him.
"I've learned a lot of things, father! I can make a cake, truly I can.
And I'm learning to read. I'm so glad Faith Carew is going to live in
Ticonderoga. Aren't you, father?"
Mr. Trent looked at his daughter again, and answered slowly: "Why,
yes, Flibbertigibbet, I believe I am."