CHAPTER IVAT MR. LYON’S
Anna raced back along the path to the bluff as fast as she could go; but the strong wind swept against her, and at times nearly blew her over. The rain came down in torrents; and, as it had grown dark with the approaching storm, she could no longer see her way clearly, and stubbed her toes against roots and stones until her feet were hurt and bleeding.
But she could not stop to think of this: she could think only of Melvina, cowering, wet and afraid, under the juniper bushes.
“Perhaps she will be blown down the slope into the river,” thought Anna, “and it will be my fault. Perhaps I have killed Melvina, by trying to make myself out as cleverer than she. Oh! If she is only safe I’ll never try to be clever again,” she vowed, as she fought her way on against wind and rain.
As she reached the top of the bluff there wasa moment’s lull in the storm, and Anna could clearly see the wide branched juniper bushes where she had left Melvina.
“Melly! Melly!” she called, scrambling down the slope. But there was no answer; and in a moment Anna realized that Melvina was not under the trees.
The storm began again with even greater violence, and Anna was obliged to cling closely to the rough branches to keep from being swept down the slope. She could hear the dash of the waves on the shore, and she trembled at the thought that Melvina might have been swept down into the angry waters.
After a little Anna, on her hands and knees, crawled up the slope, clinging to bits of grass here and there, and not venturing to stand upright until she had reached the top.
She knew what she must do now, and she did not hesitate. She must go straight to Mr. Lyon’s house and tell him the story from the moment that she had told Melvina that pine trees were alders. For a moment she wondered what would become of her afterward; but only for a moment did she think of herself.
It seemed to the little girl that she would neverreach the minister’s house. For a moment she rested in the shelter of the church, and then dragged herself on. Her feet hurt so badly now that it was all she could do to walk.
There were lights to be seen, up-stairs and down, at the parsonage; but Anna did not wonder at this. She managed to reach the front door and to lift the knocker.
In a moment London opened the door, holding a candle above his head.
“Well, boy, who be ye?” he questioned sharply, seeing only Anna’s curly brown head.
“If you please, I am Anna Weston,” faltered the little girl. “I—I—must see the minister. It’s about Melvina.”
A smile showed on the black face, and London nodded his head.
“Missy Melvina am safe in bed,” he whispered, then in a louder tone, “Step in, if ye please, Missy Anna.”
Anna dragged herself up the high step, and Mr. Lyon just then opened a door leading into his study.
“What is it, London?” he questioned, and seeing Anna, lifted his hands in amazement.
Anna stumbled toward him.
“I am to blame about Melvina!” she exclaimed, and, speaking as quickly as she could, she told the whole story. She told it exactly as it had happened, excepting Luretta’s part of the mischief, and Melvina’s willingness to wade in the creeping tide.
Mr. Lyon had taken her by the hand and led her into the candle-lit room. A little fire blazed on the brick hearth, and as Anna came near it a little mist of steam rose from her wet clothes.
The minister listened, keeping Anna’s cold little hand fast in his friendly clasp. His face was very grave, and when she finished with: “Is Melvina safe? London said she was. But, oh, Mr. Lyon, all her fine clothes are swept away, and it is my fault,” he smiled down at her troubled face.
“Be in no further alarm, my child. But come with me, for your feet are cut and bruised, and Mrs. Lyon will give you dry clothing. Melvina does not blame you in her story of this mischievous prank. But I doubt not you are both blameworthy. But ’twill be your parents’ duty to see to thy punishment.” As the minister spoke he drew her toward a door at the far end of the room and opened it, calling for Mrs. Lyon, whorose from her seat near a low table in front of the big kitchen fireplace.
All Anna’s courage had vanished. She hung her head, not daring to look at Mrs. Lyon, saying:
“I must go home. I must not stay.”
“London is at your father’s house ere this, and will tell him that you are to spend the night here. They will not be anxious about you,” said Mrs. Lyon; “and now slip out of those wet garments. I have warm water to bathe your feet,” and almost before Anna realized what was happening she found herself in a warm flannel wrapper, her bruised feet bathed and wrapped in comforting bandages, and a bowl of hot milk and corn bread on the little table beside her. When this was finished Mrs. Lyon led the little girl to a tiny chamber at the head of the stairs. A big bedstead seemed nearly to fill the room.
“Say your prayers, Anna,” said Mrs. Lyon, and without another word she left the little girl alone. Anna was so thoroughly tired out that even the strange dark room did not prevent her from going to sleep, and when she awoke the tiny room was full of sunshine; she could hear robins singing in the maples near the house, and peoplemoving about down-stairs. Then she sat up in bed with a little shiver of apprehension.
What would the minister and Mrs. Lyon and Melvina say to her? Perhaps none of them would even speak to her. She had never been so unhappy in her life as she was at that moment. She slipped out of bed; but the moment her feet touched the floor she cried out with pain. For they were bruised and sore.
There was a quick rap at the door, and Mrs. Lyon entered. “Good-morning, Anna. Here are your clothes. I have pressed them. And I suppose these are your shoes and stockings!” and she set down the stout shoes and the knit stockings that Anna had supposed had been swept out to sea.
“When you are dressed come to the kitchen and your breakfast will be ready,” said Mrs. Lyon, and left the room before Anna had courage to speak. Anna dressed quickly; but in spite of her endeavors she could not get on her shoes. Her feet hurt her too badly to take off the bandages; she drew her stockings on with some difficulty, and shoes in hand went slowly down the steep stairs.
When she was nearly down she heard Mrs.Lyon’s voice: “She is a mischievous child, and her parents encourage her. She looks like a boy, and I do not want Melvina to have aught to do with her.”
Anna drew a quick breath. She would not go into the kitchen and face people who thought so unkindly of her. “I will go home,” she thought, ready to cry with the pain from her feet, and her unhappy thoughts. The front door was wide open. There was no trace of the storm of the previous night, and Anna made her way softly across the entry and down the steps. Every step hurt, but she hurried along and had reached the church when she gave a little cry of delight, for her father was coming up the path.
“Well, here’s my Danna safe and sound,” he exclaimed, picking her up in his arms. “And what has happened to her little feet?” he asked, as he carried her on toward home.
And then Anna told all her sad story again, even to the words she had overheard Mrs. Lyon say.
“Don’t worry, Danna! I’d rather have my Dan than a dozen of their Melvinas,” said Mr. Weston quickly.
When London had come the previous nightwith the brief message from the minister that Anna was safe at his house and would stay the night there, the Westons had been vexed and troubled, and Mrs. Weston had declared that Anna should be punished for running off in such a tempest to the minister’s house. But as Mr. Weston listened to his little daughter’s story, and looked at her troubled and tear-stained face, he decided that Anna had had a lesson that she would remember, and needed comforting more than punishment; and a few whispered words to Mrs. Weston, as he set Anna down in the big wooden rocker, made Anna’s mother put her arms tenderly about her little daughter and say kindly:
“Mother’s glad enough to have her Danna home again. And now let’s look at those feet.”
Rebby came running with a bowl of hot porridge, and the little girl was made as comfortable as possible. But all that morning she sat in the big chair with her feet on a cushion in a smaller chair, and she told her mother and Rebby all the story of her adventures; and when Rebby laughed at Melvina’s not knowing an alder from a pine Danna smiled a little. But Mrs. Weston was very sober, although she said no word ofblame. If Melvina Lyon’s things had been lost it would be but right that Anna’s parents should replace them to the best of their ability, and this would be a serious expense for the little household.
After dinner Rebby went to the Fosters’, and came home with the story of Melvina’s return home. It seemed that the moment Anna left her she became frightened and had followed her up the slope; and then, while Mr. Lyon and London were searching for her, she had made her way home, told her story, and had been put to bed. Luretta had carried Melvina’s things and Anna’s shoes and stockings well up the shore, and had put them under the curving roots of the oak tree; so, although they were well soaked, they were not blown away, and early that morning Luretta had hastened to carry the things to the parsonage.
“You were brave, Dan, to go through all that storm last night to tell the minister,” said Rebby, as she drew a footstool near her sister’s chair and sat down. Rebby was not so troubled to-day; for her father had postponed his trip to the forest after the liberty tree, and Rebby hoped that perhaps it would not be necessary that one should be set up in Machias. So she was ready to keepher little sister company, and try to make her forget the troubles of her adventures.
“Of course I had to go, Rebby,” Anna responded seriously, “but none of it, not even my feet, hurt so bad as what Mrs. Lyon said about me. For I do not think I am what she said,” and Anna began to cry.
“Father says you are the bravest child in the settlement; and Mother is proud that you went straight there and took all the blame. And I am sure that no other girl is so dear as my Danna,” declared Rebby loyally. “After all, what harm did you do?”
But Anna was not so easily comforted. “I tried to make fun of Melly for not knowing anything. I tried to show off,” she said, “and now probably she will never want to see me again; and oh, Rebby! the worst of it all is that Melvina is just as brave as she can be, and I like her!” And Anna’s brown eyes brightened at the remembrance of Melvina’s enjoyment of their sport together.
“Don’t you worry, Danna; Father will make it all right,” Rebecca assured her; for Rebecca thought that her father could smooth out all the difficult places.
Anna did not speak of the excursion to the forest; she did not even think of it until that evening, when her father came home with a roll of fine birch-bark, soft and smooth as paper, on whose smooth surface she and Rebecca with bits of charcoal could trace crude pictures of trees and Indians, of birds and mice, and sometimes write letters to Lucia Horton or Luretta Foster.
“You must take good care of your feet, Dan, for I must start after the liberty tree in a few days,” said Mr. Weston, “and I want your company.”
Anna’s face brightened, but Rebecca looked troubled.
“Why must we have a liberty pole, Father?” she asked fretfully.
“We have good reasons, daughter. And to-day tidings have come that the brave men of Lexington and Concord, in Massachusetts, drove the British back to Boston on the nineteenth of April. ’Tis great news for all the colonies. I wish some British craft would give Machias men a chance to show their mettle,” said Mr. Weston, his face flushing at the thought of the patriotic action of the men of Massachusetts.
Rebecca sighed. She, too, wished that herhome town might do its part to win a victory for America; but, remembering what Lucia Horton had told her, the very mention of a liberty pole made her tremble.
When Anna hobbled up-stairs that night she was in a much happier frame of mind.
“My father is the best father in all the world, and my mother is the best mother, and my sister is the best sister,” she announced to the little group as she said good-night. But the shadow of Mrs. Lyon’s disapproval was not forgotten; Anna wondered to herself if there was not some way by which she could win the approval of Mr. and Mrs. Lyon, and so be allowed to become Melvina’s friend.
“Mrs. Lyon doesn’t like me because my hair is short, for one reason,” thought Anna. “I’ll let it grow; but ’twill take years and years,” and with this discouraging thought her eyes closed, and she forgot her troubles in sleep.
CHAPTER VA BIRTHDAY
In a few days Anna’s feet were healed, and, wearing her soft moccasins, she could run about as well as ever. But her father and mother were quick to see that a great change had come over their little daughter. She no longer wanted to be called “Dan”; she told her mother that she wanted her hair to grow long, and she even asked Rebecca to teach her how to sew more evenly and with tinier stitches.
For Anna had made a firm resolve; she would try in every possible way to be like Melvina Lyon. She gave up so many of her out-of-door games that Mrs. Weston looked at her a little anxiously, fearing that the child might not be well. Every day Anna walked up the path to the church, and lingered about hoping for a glimpse of Melvina; but a week passed and the little girls did not meet.
At last the day came when Mr. Weston wasready to start for the forest to select the liberty tree; but, greatly to his surprise, Anna said that she did not wish to go, and he started off without her.
This was the first real sacrifice Anna had made toward becoming like Melvina. She was quite sure that Melvina would not go for a tramp in the forest. “It would spoil her clothes,” reflected Anna, and looked regretfully at her own stout gingham dress, wishing it could be changed and become like one of Melvina’s dresses of flounced linen.
“I would look more like her if I wore better dresses,” she decided.
“Mother, may I not wear my Sunday dress?” she asked eagerly. “I will not play any games, or hurt it. I will only walk as far as the church and back.”
For a moment Mrs. Weston hesitated. It seemed a foolish thing to let Anna wear her best dress on a week day; but the little girl had been so quiet and unhappy since the night of her adventure that her mother decided to allow her this privilege; and Anna ran up-stairs, and in a few minutes had put on her Sunday dress. It was a blue muslin with tiny white dots, and the neckand sleeves were edged with tiny white ruffles. It had been Rebecca’s best dress for several summers, until she outgrew it, and it was made over for the younger girl, but Anna was very proud of it, and stood on tiptoe to see herself reflected in the narrow mirror between the windows of the sitting-room. Her mother had made a sunbonnet of the same material as the dress, and Anna put this on with satisfaction. Always before this she had despised a sunbonnet, and never had she put it on of her own accord. But to-day she looked at it approvingly. “No one would know but that my hair is long, and braided, just like Melvina’s,” she thought as she walked slowly toward the kitchen.
“I will only walk to the church and straight back, Mother dear,” she said, “and then I will put on my gingham dress, and sew on my patchwork.”
“That’s a good girl. You look fine enough for a party,” responded her mother, and stood at the door watching Anna as she walked soberly down the path.
“I know not what has come over the child,” she thought, with a little sigh. “To be sure, she is more like other little girls, and perhaps it iswell;” but Mrs. Weston sighed again, as if regretting her noisy, singing “Dan,” who seemed to have vanished forever.
When Anna reached the church she stood for a moment looking wistfully toward the parsonage. “If Mrs. Lyon could see me now she would not think me a tomboy,” thought Anna; and with the thought came a new inspiration: why should not Mrs. Lyon see her dressed as neatly as Melvina herself, and with the objectionable short hair hidden from sight?
“I will go and call,” decided Anna, her old courage returning; “and I will behave so well that Mrs. Lyon will ask me to come often and play with Melvina,” and, quite forgetting to walk quietly, she raced along the path in her old-time fashion until she was at the minister’s door. Then she rapped, and stood waiting, a little breathless, but smiling happily, quite sure that a little girl in so pretty a dress and so neat a sunbonnet would receive a warm welcome. Perhaps Mrs. Lyon would come to the door, she thought hopefully.
But it was Melvina herself who opened the door. Melvina, wearing a white dress and a long apron.
For a moment the two little girls stood looking at each other in surprise. Then Melvina smiled radiantly. “Oh! It really is you, Anna! Come in. I am keeping house this afternoon, and nobody will know that you are here.”
“But I came to call on your mother. I wanted her to see me,” explained Anna.
But Melvina did not seem to notice this explanation. She took Anna’s hand and drew her into the house.
“Oh, Dan! wasn’t it fun to wade and run on the shore?” said Melvina eagerly, as the two girls entered the big pleasant kitchen. “I didn’t mind being wet or frightened or punished. Did you?”
“I wasn’t punished,” Anna responded meekly.
“I was. I was sent to bed without my supper for three nights; and I had to learn two tables of figures,” declared Melvina triumphantly. “But I didn’t care. For I have a splendid plan——” But before Melvina could say another word the kitchen door opened and Mrs. Lyon entered.
At first she did not recognize Anna, and smiled pleasantly at the neat, quiet little girl in the pretty dress and sunbonnet. “And who is this little maid?” she asked.
“I am Anna Western,” Anna replied quickly, making a clumsy curtsy.
Mrs. Lyon’s smile vanished. She thought to herself that Anna had taken advantage of her absence to steal into the house, perhaps to entice Melvina for some rough game out-of-doors.
“I came to call,” Anna continued bravely, her voice faltering a little. “I wanted to say I was sorry for being mischievous.”
Mrs. Lyon’s face softened, and she noticed approvingly that Anna’s short curly locks were covered by the sunbonnet, and that she was dressed in her best; but she was still a little doubtful.
“Well, Anna, I am glad indeed that you are so right-minded. It is most proper that you should be sorry. I doubt not that your good parents punished you severely for your fault,” said Mrs. Lyon. But she did not ask Anna to sit down, or to remove her sunbonnet. Melvina looked from Anna to her mother, not knowing what to say.
“I think I must go now,” said Anna, almost ready to cry. “Good-bye, Melvina; good-afternoon, Mrs. Lyon,” and making another awkward curtsy Anna turned toward the door.
“Oh, Danna! Don’t go,” called Melvina, running toward her; but Mrs. Lyon’s firm hand held her back.
“Good-afternoon, Anna! I hope you will grow into a good and obedient girl,” she said kindly.
Anna’s tears now came thick and fast. She could hardly see the path as she stumbled along. But if she could have heard Melvina’s words as her mother held her back from the kitchen door, she would have felt that her visit had been worth while. For Melvina had exclaimed, greatly to Mrs. Lyon’s dismay: “Oh, Mother! Ask her to come again. For I want to be exactly like Danna, and do all the things she does.”
Luretta Foster, coming down the path, stopped short and stared at Anna in amazement. It was surprising enough to see Anna dressed as if ready for church, but to see her in tears was almost unbelievable.
“What is the matter, Danna?” she asked, coming close to her little friend’s side, and endeavoring to peer under the sunbonnet. “Would not your father let you go with him to the forest?”
Anna made no answer, and when Luretta puta friendly arm about her shoulders, she drew a little away.
“Do not cry, Dan. My brother Paul has gone to the forest with your father, and he promised to bring me home a rabbit to tame for a pet. I will give it to you, Dan,” said Luretta.
For a moment Anna forgot her troubles. “Will you, truly, Luretta?” and she pushed back her sunbonnet that she might see her friend more clearly.
“Yes, I will. And I will give you a nice box with slats across the top, and a little door at the end that Paul made yesterday for the rabbit to live in,” Luretta promised generously. “I do not suppose Melvina Lyon would know a rabbit from a wolf,” she continued laughingly, quite sure that Anna would suggest asking Melvina to come and see their tame wolf. But Anna did nothing of the sort.
“Melvina knows more than any girl in this settlement,” Anna replied quickly. “She can do sums in fractions, and she can embroider, and make cakes. And she is brave, too.”
“Why, Dan Weston! And only last week you made fun of her, and said that all those things were of no account,” exclaimed Luretta.
For a moment the two little friends walked on in silence, and then Anna spoke.
“Luretta, I’ll tell you something. I am going to try to be exactly like Melvina Lyon. Everybody praises her, and your mother and mine are always saying that she is well-behaved. And I am going to let my hair grow long and be well-behaved. But don’t tell anyone,” Anna added quickly, “for I want Mrs. Lyon to find it out first of all.”
“Oh, Dan! And won’t you make funny rhymes any more? Or play on the timber-rafts—or—or—anything?” asked Luretta.
“I don’t believe there is any harm in making rhymes. It’s something you can’t help,” responded Anna thoughtfully. “And Parson Lyon has written a book,” she added quickly, as if that in some way justified her jingles.
“I don’t want you to be different, Dan!” declared Luretta.
Anna stopped and looked at her friend reproachfully. “Well, Luretta Foster, I am surprised!” she said, and then clasping Luretta’s hand she started to run down the path, saying: “Let’s hurry, so I can take off this dress; then we will walk a little way toward the forest to seeif Father and Paul are coming. Will you truly; give me the rabbit if Paul captures one?”
“Yes, I will,” promised Luretta; but she began to wish that she had not suggested such a thing. If Danna was going to be exactly like Melvina Lyon, thought Luretta, a rabbit would not receive much attention.
Rebecca was sitting on the front step busy with her knitting as the two little girls came up the path. It was her birthday, but so far no one had seemed to remember it. ThePollyhad not reached port, so the fine present she had been promised could not be expected. But Rebecca was surprised and disappointed that everyone had seemed to forget that she was fourteen on the tenth of May. But as she looked up and saw Anna dressed in her best, and Luretta beside her, coming up the path, Rebby’s face brightened. “I do believe Mother has planned a surprise for me,” she thought happily. “Oh, there comes Lucia! Now I am sure that Mother has asked her to come, and perhaps some of the other girls,” and Rebecca put down her knitting and stood up, smiling at the girls expectantly, for she was quite sure that their first words would be a birthday greeting.
At that moment Mrs. Weston, busy in her kitchen, remembered suddenly that it was September tenth. “My Rebby’s birthday! And, with my mind full of all the worry about being shut off from the world by British cruisers, and provisions growing so scarce, I had forgotten,” and Mrs. Weston left her work and reached the front door just as Rebecca rose to her feet to greet her friends.
“Fourteen to-day, Rebby dear,” said Mrs. Weston, putting her arm about her tall daughter and kissing Rebecca.
At the same moment, hearing her mother’s words, Anna ran forward calling out: “Rebby is fourteen to-day.”
Luretta and Lucia were close behind her, and Rebecca found herself the centre of a smiling happy group, and for the moment quite forgot that she must do without the present from Boston that her father had promised her.
CHAPTER VILUCIA HAS A PLAN
“I have brought you a birthday gift, Rebby,” said Lucia, who had been looking forward all day to the moment when she could give her friend the small package that she now handed her.
Rebecca received it smilingly, and quickly unwound the white tissue paper in which it was wrapped, showing a flat white box. Inside this box lay a pair of white silk mitts.
Rebecca looked at them admiringly, and even Mrs. Weston declared that very few girls could hope for a daintier gift; while Anna and Luretta urged Rebecca to try them on at once, which she was quite ready to do. They fitted exactly, and Lucia was as proud and happy as Rebecca herself that her gift was so praised and appreciated.
“They came from France,” she said. “Look on the box, Rebby, and you will see ‘Paris, France.’ My father bought them of a Boston merchant, and I have a pair for myself.”
“Are any more girls coming, Mother?” Rebecca asked as Mrs. Weston led the way to the living-room.
“No, my dear. And I only——” Mrs. Weston hesitated. She had started to say that she had only remembered Rebecca’s birthday a few moments earlier; but she stopped in time, knowing it would cloud the afternoon’s pleasure; and Rebecca, smiling and delighted with Lucia’s gift, and sure that her mother had some treat ready for them, exclaimed:
“I do not mind now so much that thePollyhas not arrived; for I could have no gift finer than a pair of silk mitts.”
Anna had taken off her sunbonnet and was sitting on one of the low rush-bottomed chairs near a window. She was very quiet, reproaching herself in her thoughts that she had no gift for her sister. What could she give her? For little girls in revolutionary times, especially those in remote villages, had very few possessions of their own, and Anna had no valued treasure that might make a present. If she had remembered in time, she thought, she would have asked her mother to help her make a needle-book.
Suddenly she jumped up and ran across theroom and kissed her sister, first on one cheek and then on the other, saying:
“If I had golden beads in strings,I’d give you these, and other things.But Rebby, dear, I’ve only thisTo give to-day: a birthday kiss.”
“If I had golden beads in strings,I’d give you these, and other things.But Rebby, dear, I’ve only thisTo give to-day: a birthday kiss.”
Lucia and Luretta were sure that Anna must have had her verse all ready to repeat; and even Rebecca, who knew that Anna rhymed words easily, thought that Anna had prepared this birthday greeting, and was very proud of her little sister. But at the words, “golden beads,” a great hope came into Rebecca’s heart. Perhaps that was what thePollywas bringing for her.
“I am to have a rabbit,” said Anna happily. “What shall I name it?”
Lucia did not seem much interested in anything so ordinary as a rabbit, and had no suggestion to offer, and while Anna and Luretta were deciding this question Lucia whispered to Rebecca: “When I go home be sure and walk a little way; I want to tell you something important.”
Rebby nodded smilingly. For the moment she had entirely forgotten the uncomfortablesecret that Lucia had confided in her, and was thinking only that it was really a wonderful thing to have a fourteenth birthday.
While the four little girls were talking happily in the living-room, Mrs. Weston was trying to think up some sort of a birthday treat for them. There was no white sugar in the house, or, for that matter, in the entire settlement. But the Westons had a small store of maple sugar, made from the sap of the maple trees, and Mrs. Weston quickly decided that this should be used for Rebecca’s birthday celebration. She hurried to the pantry, and when an hour later she opened the door and called the girls to the kitchen they all exclaimed with delight.
The round table was covered with a shining white cloth, and Mrs. Weston had set it with her fine blue plates, that she had brought from Boston when she came to Machias, and that were seldom used.
By each plate stood a lustre mug filled with milk, and in the centre of the table was a heart-shaped cake frosted with maple sugar.
“Oh, Mother! This is my very best birthday!” Rebecca declared happily, and as the other girls seated themselves at the table she stood withbowed head to say the “grace” of thanks before cutting her birthday cake.
Anna wished to herself that Melvina Lyon might have been one of the guests, and shared the delicious cake. She wondered just how Melvina would behave on such an occasion; and was so careful with her crumbs, and so polite in her replies to the other girls that Lucia and Rebecca began to laugh, thinking Anna was making believe for their amusement.
Before the little girls left the table Mr. Weston appeared at the kitchen door, and was quite ready to taste the cake, and again remind Rebecca of the gift thePollywas bringing.
“Let me whisper, Father,” she responded, drawing his head down near her own. “It’sbeads!” she whispered, and when her father laughed she was sure she was right, and almost as happy as if the longed-for gift was around her neck.
“Well, Paul and I found the liberty tree,” said Mr. Weston, “and I cut it down and trimmed it save for its green plume. Paul is towing it downstream now; and when we set it up ’twill be a credit to the town.”
Lucia rose quickly. “I must be going home,”she said, a little flush coming into her cheeks. “I have enjoyed the afternoon very much,” she added politely; for if Melvina Lyon was the smartest girl in the village no one could say that any of the other little girls ever forgot to be well-mannered.
Rebecca followed her friend to the door, and they walked down the path together, while Anna and Luretta questioned Mr. Weston eagerly as to Paul’s success in capturing a rabbit, and were made happy with the news that he had secured two young rabbits, and that they were safe in the canoe which Paul was now paddling down the river, towing the liberty tree behind him.
Rebecca and Lucia had gone but a few steps when Lucia whispered: “We mustn’t let them put up the liberty tree. Oh, Rebby, why didn’t you try to stop your father going after it?”
“How could I?” responded Rebecca. “And when I said: ‘Why must Machias have a liberty pole?’ he was ill pleased with me, and said I must be loyal to America’s rights. Oh, Lucia! are you sure that——”
But Lucia’s hand was held firmly over Rebby’s mouth. “Ssh. Don’t speak it aloud, Rebby. For ’twould make great trouble for my father, inany case, if people even guessed that he knew the plans of the British. But I could not help hearing what he said to Mother the day he sailed. But, Rebby, we must do something so the liberty pole will not be set up.”
“Can’t we tell my father?” suggested Rebecca hopefully.
“Oh, Rebecca Weston! If your father knew what I told you he would do his best to have the liberty pole put up at once,” declared Lucia.
“But I have a plan, and you must help me,” she continued. “Paul Foster will bring the sapling close in shore near his father’s shop, and it will rest there to-night; and when it is dark we must go down and cut it loose and push it out so that the current will take it downstream, and the tide will carry it out to sea. Then, before they can get another one, thePollywill come sailing in and all will be well.”
“Won’t the British ship come if we do not put up the liberty pole?” asked Rebecca.
“There! You have said it aloud, Rebby!” whispered Lucia reprovingly.
“Not all of it; but how can we go out of our houses in the night, Lucia?” replied Rebecca, who had begun to think that perhaps Lucia’splan was the easiest way to save the village. For Lucia had told her friend that thePolly, of which Lucia’s father was captain, and the sloopUnity, owned and sailed by a Captain Jones of Boston, would be escorted to Machias by an armed British ship; and if a liberty pole was set up the British would fire upon the town. So it was no wonder that Rebecca was frightened and ready to listen to Lucia’s plan to avert the danger.
She did not know that her father and other men of the settlement were already beginning to doubt the loyalty of the two captains to America’s cause.
“It will be easy enough to slip out when everybody is asleep,” Lucia replied to Rebecca’s question. “We can meet at Mr. Foster’s shop. If I get there first I will wait, and if you get there before me you must wait. As near ten o’clock as we can. And then it won’t take us but a few minutes to push the sapling out into the current. Just think, Rebby, we will save the town, and nobody will ever know it but just us two.”
Rebby sighed. She wished that Lucia’s father had kept the secret to himself. Besides, she was not sure that it was right to prevent the liberty pole from being set up. But that the townshould be fired upon by a British man-of-war, and everyone killed, as Lucia assured her, when it could be prevented by her pushing a pine sapling into the current of the river, made the little girl decide that she would do as Lucia had planned.
“All right. I will be there, at the blacksmith shop, when it strikes ten to-night,” she agreed, and the friends parted.
Rebecca walked slowly toward home, forgetting all the joy of the afternoon; forgetting even that it was her fourteenth birthday, and that a string of gold beads for her was probably on board thePolly.
Paul Foster towed the fine sapling to the very place that Lucia had mentioned, and his father came to the shore and looked at it admiringly as he helped Paul make it secure. “It is safely fastened and no harm can come to it,” Mr. Foster said after they had drawn the tree partly from the water. Paul drew his canoe up on the beach, and taking the rabbits in the stout canvas bag, started for home.
Anna and Luretta were both on the watch for him, and came running to meet him. Anna now wore her every-day dress of gingham, and in hereagerness to see the rabbits she had quite forgotten to try and behave like Melvina Lyon.
“Why, it is a pity to separate the little creatures,” Paul declared, when Luretta told him that she had promised one to Anna. “See how close they keep together. And this box is big enough for them both. And they are so young they must be fed very carefully for a time.”
“I know what we can do,” declared Anna; “my rabbit can live here until he is a little larger, and then my father will make a box for him and I can take him home.”
Paul said that would do very well, and that Anna could come each day and learn how to feed the little creatures, and what they liked best to eat.
“But which one is to be mine? They are exactly alike,” said Anna, a little anxiously. And indeed there was no way of telling the rabbits apart, so Anna and Luretta agreed that when the time came to separate them it would not matter which one Anna chose for her own.
At supper time Anna could talk of nothing but the rabbits, and had so much to say that her father and mother did not notice how silent Rebecca was.
The little household retired early, and by eight o’clock Rebecca was in bed, but alert to every sound, and resolved not to go to sleep. The sisters slept together, and in a few minutes Anna was sound asleep. Rebecca heard the clock strike nine, then very quietly she got out of bed and dressed. Her moccasins made no noise as she stepped cautiously along the narrow passage, and down the steep stairway. She lifted the big bar that fastened the door and stood it against the wall, then she opened the door, closing it carefully behind her, and stepped out into the warm darkness of the spring night.
CHAPTER VII“A TRAITOR’S DEED”
It was one of those May evenings that promise that summer is close at hand. The air was soft and warm; there was no wind, and in the clear starlight Rebecca could see the shadows of the tall elm tree near the blacksmith shop, and the silvery line of the softly flowing river. As she stood waiting for Lucia she looked up into the clear skies and traced the stars forming the Big Dipper, nearly over her head. Low down in the west Jupiter shone brightly, and the broad band of shimmering stars that formed the Milky Way stretched like a jeweled necklace across the heavens. The little village slept peacefully along the river’s bank; not a light was to be seen in any of the shadowy houses. A chorus of frogs from the marshes sounded shrilly through the quiet. In years to come, when Rebecca heard the first frogs sounding their call to spring, she was to recall that beautiful night when she stoleout to try and save the town, as she believed, from being fired on by a British gunboat.
She had made so early a start that she had to wait what seemed a very long time for Lucia, who approached so quietly that not until she touched Rebby’s arm did Rebby know of her coming.
“I am late, and I nearly had to give up coming because Mother did not get to sleep,” Lucia explained, as the two girls hurried down to the river. “She is so worried about Father,” continued Lucia; “she says that since the Americans defeated the English at Lexington they may drive them out of Boston as well.”
“Of course they will,” declared Rebecca, surprised that anyone could imagine the righteous cause of America defeated. “And if the English gunboat comes in here the Machias men will capture it,” she added.
“Well, I don’t know,” responded Lucia despondently. “But if it destroyed the town there wouldn’t be anyone left to capture it; and that is why we must push that liberty tree offshore.”
The girls were both strong, and Lucia had brought a sharp knife with which to cut the rope holding the tree to a stake on the bank, so it didnot take them long to push the tree clear of the shore. They found a long pole near by, and with this they were able to swing the liberty tree out until the current of the river came to their aid and carried it slowly along.
“How slowly it moves,” said Rebecca impatiently, as they stood watching it move steadily downstream.
“But it will be well down the bay before morning,” said Lucia, “and we must get home as quickly as we can. I wish my father could know that there will not be a liberty pole set up in Machias.”
Rebecca stopped short. “No liberty pole, Lucia Horton? Indeed there will be. Why, my father says that all the loyal settlements along the Maine coast are setting up one; and as soon as the old British gunboat is out of sight Machias will put up a liberty tree. Perhaps ’twill even be set up while the gunboat lies in this harbor.”
“Well, come on! We have tried to do what we could to save the town, anyway,” responded Lucia, who began to be sadly puzzled. If a liberty tree was so fine a thing why should her father not wish Machias to have one, she wondered.Lucia did not know that her father was even then bargaining with the British in Boston to bring them a cargo of lumber on his next trip from Machias, in return for permission to load thePollywith provisions to sell to the people of the settlement, and that, exactly as Lucia had heard him predict, an armed British gunboat would accompany the sloopsPollyandUnitywhen they should appear in Machias harbor.
The two friends whispered a hasty “good-night,” and each ran in the direction of home. Rebby pushed the big door open noiselessly, but she did not try to replace the bar. As she crept up the stairs she could hear the even breathing of her father and mother, and she slid into bed without waking Anna, and was too sleepy herself to lie long awake.
The unfastened door puzzled Mr. Weston when he came down-stairs at daybreak the next morning. “I was sure I put the bar up,” he thought, but he had no time to think much about trifles that morning, for, as he stood for a moment in the doorway, he saw Paul Foster running toward the house.
“Mr. Weston, sir, the liberty pole is gone,” gasped the boy, out of breath. “The rope thatheld it to the stake was cut,” he continued. “Father says ’tis some Tory’s work.”
Mr. Weston did not stop for breakfast. He told Mrs. Weston that he would come up later on, as soon as he had found out more about the missing liberty tree; and with Paul beside him, now talking eagerly of how his father had gone with him to take a look at the pine sapling and found no trace of it, Mr. Weston hurried toward the shore where a number of men were now gathered.
Anna had hard work to awaken Rebby that morning, and when she came slowly down-stairs she felt cross and tired; but her mother’s first words made her forget everything else.
“We will eat our porridge without your father,” Mrs. Weston said gravely. “A terrible thing has happened. Some traitor has made way with the liberty tree that your father and Paul selected yesterday.”
“Traitor?” gasped Rebby, who knew well that such a word meant the lowest and most to be despised person on earth, and could hardly believe that what she had supposed to be a fine and brave action could be a traitor’s deed.
“Who else but a traitor would make way withour liberty pole?” responded Mrs. Weston. “But do not look so frightened, Rebby. Sit up to the table; when your father comes home he will tell us who did the base act. And we may be sure Machias men will deal with him as he deserves.”
But Rebecca could not eat the excellent porridge; and when her mother questioned her anxiously she owned that her head ached, and that she did not feel well.
“I’ll steep up some thoroughwort; a good cup of herb tea will soon send off your headache,” said Mrs. Weston, “and you had best go back to bed. Maybe ’tis because of the birthday cake.”
Rebecca made no response; she was glad to go back to her room, where she buried her face in the pillow, hardly daring to think what would become of her. Supposing Lucia should tell, she thought despairingly, saying over and over to herself, “Traitor! Traitor!” So that when Anna came softly into the room a little later she found her sister with flushed face and tear-stained eyes, and ran back to the kitchen to tell her mother that Rebby was very ill.
It was an anxious and unhappy morning for Rebby and for her mother, for Mrs. Weston becameworried at the sight of her daughter’s flushed cheeks and frightened eyes. She decided that it was best for Rebecca to remain in bed; and, had it not been for the frequent doses of bitter herb tea which her mother insisted on her drinking, Rebby would have been well satisfied to hide herself away from everyone.
Anna helped her mother about the household work, thinking to herself that probably Melvina Lyon was doing the same. After the dishes had been washed and set away Mrs. Weston suggested that Anna should run down to Luretta Foster’s.
“’Twill be best to keep the house quiet this morning, and you can see the rabbits,” she added.
“But, Mother! I am not noisy. Do I not step quietly, and more softly?” pleaded Anna. She was quite ready to run off to her friend’s, but she was sure her mother must notice that she was no longer the noisy girl who ran in and out of the house singing and laughing.
“Well, my dear child, you have been ‘Anna,’ not ‘Dan,’ for a week past. And I know not what has turned you into so quiet and well-behaved a girl,” responded her mother. “But run along, and be sure and inquire if there be anynews of the rascal who made way with the liberty tree.”
Anna started off very sedately, measuring her steps and holding her head a little on one side as she had noticed that Melvina sometimes did. She was thinking of Rebby, and what a pity it was to have to stay indoors when the sun was so warm, and when there were so many pleasant things to do. “I will go over on the hill and get her some young checkerberry leaves,” resolved Anna, remembering how Rebby liked their sharp flavor. Then she remembered that the rabbits were to be named that morning; and, forgetting all about Melvina, she ran swiftly along the path, beginning to sing in her old-time manner.
Luretta was watching for her, and smiled happily when she heard Anna’s voice. “Oh! She’s going to stay ‘Danna,’ and not be like that stuck-up Melvina Lyon,” she thought with delight; for Luretta did not think Anna would make a satisfactory playmate if she were going to change into a quiet, well-behaved girl like the minister’s little daughter.
In a few minutes the girls were beside the box that held the captive rabbits, who looked up at them with startled eyes. Paul had brought abasket of fresh grass, and some bits of tender bark and roots on which the little creatures were nibbling.
“I do wish they were not exactly alike,” said Anna.
But Luretta declared that she thought it was much better that way. “Because I should want you to have the prettiest one, and you would want me to have the prettiest one, and how could we ever choose?” she explained; and Anna acknowledged that perhaps it was better that the rabbits should be alike in every way. After much discussion of names they decided that the rabbits must be called as nearly alike as possible; and so the new pets were named “Trit” and “Trot.”
Every little child in the neighborhood enjoyed a visit at Luretta’s home. In the first place because of Mrs. Foster’s pleasant smile and kind welcome, and also because of the wonderful treasures it contained. There was a great round ostrich egg, which Mr. Foster’s brother had brought from far-off Africa. This egg was carefully kept in a wooden box on the high mantel shelf; but Mrs. Foster was never too busy to take it down and let the little visitor gaze atit with admiring eyes. Then there was a model of a water-mill, with its tiny wheels, as complete as if it could begin work at once. This stood on a table in the corner of the sitting-room, where anyone might stand and admire it, and hear Luretta or Paul tell that their father had made every bit of it himself. Besides these treasures Mrs. Foster, with a pair of scissors and a bit of paper, could make the most beautiful paper dolls that any little girl could wish to possess; and whenever Luretta’s friends came for a visit they usually took home a paper doll, or perhaps a bird cut from paper, or a horse. So Anna was ready to leave even the beautiful rabbits and go indoors. But this morning Mrs. Foster did not seem her usual cheerful self.
“This is sad news about our liberty tree; but the men have set out in boats to search for it, and ’twill be a good omen indeed if they find and bring it back,” she said.
“My father says ’twill be a great day for the settlement when ’tis put up,” said Anna, looking longingly toward the box on the high mantel, and hoping she might have a look at the wonderful egg.
“And so it will be. With Boston in the handsof the British, and no safety on land or sea ’tis time each town showed some mark of loyalty,” declared Mrs. Foster. “I will put on my sunbonnet and we will walk to the wharves, and perhaps hear some news of the traitor who made way with it. I said at first maybe ’twas the mischief of some boy who did not realize what the tree stood for; but Paul flared up at once and said there was no boy on the coast of Maine who would do such a thing, unless ’twas a young Tory; and we know of no Tory here.”
As they neared the wharf they heard a loud cheer from a group of men, and could see that a boat, rowed by Mr. Weston and Mr. Foster, was coming rapidly toward the shore and behind it trailed the fine pine sapling.
“And there comes Parson Lyon with his little daughter,” said Mrs. Foster. “He is as good a patriot as General Washington himself,” she added admiringly.
As Mr. Lyon came near the little group he stopped for a moment.
“May I leave my daughter with you?” he asked. “I wish to be one of those who lift that sacred tree to safety.” And he hurried on to the wharf, leaving Melvina, who stood smiling delightedly at this unexpected meeting with Anna.