ne day. I was gathering sassafras and birch buds for her and they did
not know I was there. And Rachel said if he married Clarissa, she would
persuade uncle not to leave him any part of the farm. Ought not the farm
belong to Andrew?"

Primrose shook her head doubtfully.

"If I were a man I would run away and fight too. I would find Andrew and
march and fight beside him. Oh, Primrose, thou canst never know how good
and sweet he was to me and what wise counsel he gave. And now I am so
wretched!"

"Poor girl, poor Faith!" Primrose cried, deeply moved. "If you could
come into town----"

"I can go nowhere, she says, until I am of age; if I did, that the
constable could bring me back, or I could be put in jail. And that if I
do not please her I shall have none of Uncle James' money."

"It is not honest to count on the money, and James Henry may live many
years!" exclaimed Patty sharply.

"If I had it I should give it back to Andrew. I feel as if we had
crowded him out of his home. No one speaks of him but Aunt Lois and old
Chloe, and Rachel frowns at her. Oh, if I dared come to thee, I would be
a servant, or anything! Oh, Primrose, God hast set thee in a blessed
garden! Bend over and kiss me. And come again. It is like a bit of
heaven to see thee."

Then Faith vanished, and the tears ran down the pink cheeks of the
child.

"Oh, what can we do?" she sobbed.

"Nothing, dear," returned Patty, much moved, and feeling that some
comfort was needed, even if it was only the sound of a human voice.
"Friend Rachel hath grown hard through disappointment. Grace does not
always wrap itself in a plain garb, and a red rose is sweet and pretty
in its redness. There is much selfishness in the world under all colors,
methinks, and when it is gray; it grows grayer by the wearing."

CHAPTER XVII.

MID WAR'S ALARMS.

Madam Wetherill sighed over the affair and was sorry to hear of the
failing health of James Henry. But nothing could be done to ease up
Faith's hard lines. She understood much more than she could explain to
the innocent Primrose; more indeed than she cared to have her know at
present about the emotions the human soul. For she had the sweet
unconsciousness of a flower that had yet to open, and she did not want
it rudely forced.

Rachel's desire and disappointment must have soured her greatly, she
thought. In spite of her training in resignation, human nature seemed as
strong in her as in any woman of the worl