orrow," Louise said, as the two girls
prepared for bed.

"What makes you think of a storm?" questioned Faith.

"There was a ring around the moon," said Louise; "that's one sign, and
the air felt like snow."

But Faith was too happy over the evening to think about weather signs.
She had, for that night, quite forgotten about the English soldiers
and her resolve to send a message to Ethan Allen.

Louise's predictions proved right; for when the morning came snow was
falling steadily, and great drifts were heaped up against the walls
and fences. A chill east wind came sweeping across the ice-bound lake,
and it was plain that there would be no more skating for many days.

For nearly a week trails and roads were impassable. Mr. Trent, knowing
that Louise was safe and happy with her friends, made no effort to
reach her; and the Scotts were glad to keep indoors, safe from the
fierce cold and wind.

Donald and Hugh dug a tunnel to the shop, and Mr. Scott kept a path
open to the barn, while indoors Aunt Prissy kept the two girls busy
and happy. She declared that she had been hoping for a day to dye some
recently woven blankets, and asked Faith what color she thought would
be best.

"But how can you make any color you like, Aunt Prissy?" asked Faith.

"Perhaps not 'any color I like,' but I have a good lot of colors to
choose from," replied Aunt Prissy. "People who live in the wilderness
need only to step outdoors to find almost anywhere some plant that
furnishes dye, and I gather my dye-plants and roots every summer, as I
am sure your own mother does."

"I know mother always gathers the dogwood roots to make a scarlet dye.
Kashaqua told her about that," answered Faith. "The Indians use it for
their feathers."

"And I am sure your mother dyed your brown dress with the shells of
the hickory-nut," said Aunt Prissy, "and the yellow root is what I
used to color the covers on the chair cushions in your room."

This was all new to Louise, and she listened eagerly, thinking to
herself that she would color the faded quilts on her own bed; and that
another summer she would gather a good supply of the roots and plants
of which Mrs. Scott spoke.

"The pokeweed berries will color a good red," continued Mrs. Scott;
"but for scarlet we must use the dogwood roots."

Then Mrs. Scott showed the little girls her bundles of dyestuffs, each
plant and root tied up and marked carefully with its name and use. A
large number of the dogwoo