"Nobody will hear us here," said Frederick in a mysterious whisper, looking sharply about the room.

"Oh, Fred! I do believe that you are making believe that you are a Tory spy in danger of capture," laughed Rose.

"Indeed I'm not! I wouldn't make believe be a spy," responded the boy scornfully. "I'm a loyal messenger, ready to carry news to General Washington!"

"Here is the message," and Rose handed her brother the package.

Frederick took it with shining eyes, and held it closely.

"Oh, Rose, is it truly? And where am I to take it?" he asked.

"Why, Fred, you 'pretend' splendidly," said his sister. "I suppose you'd really like to be messenger for Washington, but that isn't it, you know. Just unroll that package and tell me how good a doll you can make."

"Make a doll!" Fred flung the little bundle to the floor and looked ready to cry. "I suppose you think it's funny to make me believe I could do something to help Washington, when you really just had an old wooden doll to show me."

"Now, Fred," and Rose put her hand on her brother's shoulder, "own up that I didn't say a word to make you imagine such a thing. You know I didn't! I asked you if you would do something for me, and not let any one know."

"Well, I might have known nothing interesting would happen to me," said Frederick. "Nothing ever does," and he regarded poor "Martha Stoddard" with scornful eyes.

"I want you to make a wooden doll as nearly like this one as you can," said Rose. "Millicent has taken possession of this one, and it's the only doll Anne has, and I'm sure that she doesn't want Millicent to have it. I thought if you could make one just like it that Millicent would like the new one better, and then Anne could have her own."

"All right," but Fred's voice was a little surly.

"And as for nothing happening to you, Fred, you ought to be thankful that nothing does happen, and that we are all safe and well. Suppose the British had won the battles at Concord and Lexington and Bunker Hill," and Rose looked at her small brother more sternly than ever before. "I could tell you of something very pleasant that is going to happen to you," she concluded.

"What is it, Rose?" and Fred was again eager and hopeful.

But Rose shook her head. "You just wait and see. Make the wooden doll. I'll tell you when the doll is finished," and she picked "Martha" up from the floor where Frederick had dropped her.

"Can't I keep her for a pattern?" asked Frederick.

"Yes. Anne and Millicent are making paper dolls, and they won't miss her for a little while, but bring her in before supper time."

"All right," and Frederick nodded cheerfully. He was already looking over his stock of wood for suitable pieces for the new doll, and wondering what the pleasant surprise would be.

Millicent could cut out very queer little dolls, and she and Anne were quite happy together under the big horse-chestnut tree until Anne said: "Where is my wooden doll, Millicent?"

"It's mine; my Anne Rose," said little Millicent placidly. "I don't know where she is. I guess she's lost," and Millicent carefully folded a piece of paper to cut another doll.

"Lost!" Anne repeated.

"Yes," agreed Millicent, indifferently. "I guess she is; p'raps she isn't, though."

Anne remembered Caroline's story of elves, and was quite sure that her head was filled with them, for she felt as if she wanted to shake Millicent, and at the thought that her dear "Martha" was really lost Anne began to cry.

Millicent put down the scissors and paper, and looked at Anne with startled eyes, and then she began to cry. Rose came running out from the carriage-house.

"What is the matter, dear?" and she kneeled down beside her little sister. But Millicent sobbed on.

"Tell me, Anne," and she turned toward her little visitor.

"Millicent has lost 'Martha Stoddard,'" Anne managed to reply, wiping her eyes, and feeling very much ashamed that Rose should have seen her cry.

"Nonsense! The doll isn't lost. I saw it a minute ago. Come, Millicent; I'll go with you and Anne for a little walk toward King's Chapel," and Rose held out a hand to each of the girls.

"Rose," exclaimed Anne suddenly, "I know that you think I'm selfish about 'Martha Stoddard,' but Rose, listen!" and Anne looked up pleadingly into her friend's face. "When I was a little girl, not as large as Millicent, and my mother had died, and my father and I were all alone, he made me that wooden doll! I never had anything else to play with until I went to live with Aunt Martha. It isn't just a doll, Rose; it's—why, it's most like a real person," and Anne's voice sounded as if it was hard work to keep back the tears.

"You ought to have told me before," replied Rose kindly. "You see, Millicent is too little to understand, and we all love her and don't like to make her unhappy. 'Martha' is all right, and you shall have her safely back, dear," and Rose's voice was even more kind and friendly than usual as she told Anne of the new doll that Fred was making for Millicent.

"A new doll!" exclaimed Millicent happily, and could hardly wait for the time when Fred would finish it.

"So there goes my great secret!" laughed Rose. Anne was looking quite her happy self again, and Millicent was skipping along quite forgetting that she had ever wanted the wooden doll from Province Town.

"I don't believe I like secrets anyway," continued Rose; "let's go back to the carriage-house and watch Fred make the new doll, and I'll bring out the clothes I have made to dress it."

Frederick looked up from his work in surprise when the girls entered the carriage-house. "Thought it was a secret!" he exclaimed.

"No more secrets in this family," declared Rose.

"Glad to hear it. Now I can know what's going to happen to me," responded Fred.

"Of course you can. Father has to go to Salem next week and he is going to take you with him."

"Nothing will happen in driving to Salem in the morning and back at night," said Frederick, a little scornfully.

"Wait and see!" and Rose nodded so hopefully that Frederick wondered to himself if she had really told him all she knew about his father's plans.

While the children were in the carriage-house they heard the clatter of horses' hoofs on the driveway.

"Look!" exclaimed Frederick. "There's a man and a woman riding into our yard. Why, the woman is riding that black colt that brought you home."

But Rose and Anne had not waited for the end of Frederick's exclamation. Looking out they had seen the pretty black colt, and on its back a slight figure in a brown dress sitting very straight indeed, and wearing a hat of plaited straw with a brown ribbon—a hat exactly like the one Anne was so proud of.

There was a chorus of "Aunt Anne Rose! Aunt Anne Rose!" in which Millicent and Frederick joined, as the children ran out to welcome the unexpected visitors.

"I am here, too!" said Mr. Pierce laughingly.

The visitors were warmly welcomed by Mr. and Mrs. Freeman.

"I couldn't be satisfied, after this fine saddle came, until I had taken a journey," declared Aunt Anne Rose, with a happy little laugh. "And my boys were sure that they could keep house without us, so Silas and I started off. Having nieces to visit I felt as if I must come."

"Anne Rose has never been in Boston before, and she thinks it must be as large as London itself," said Mr. Pierce.

"There are indeed many places to see," said Mrs. Freeman, "and it will be a great pleasure for us to show them to Mrs. Pierce."

"There is Mistress Mason's shop," suggested Anne.

"And Governor Hancock's fine house," added Rose.

"And the wharves and shipyards," said Frederick.

As they talked the little party moved toward the house. Rose ran to the kitchen to help Caroline prepare an early supper, and Mrs. Freeman sent Anne to show the visitors to the big spare chamber.

"I wear my fine hat every day," said Anne, as she and Aunt Anne Rose went up the stairs together.

"I really think that we must take Anne back to Scituate with us," said Mr. Pierce. "What do you say, Anne?"

"My father's ship may come any day now," answered the little girl, "and then we must go home to Province Town."

It seemed to Anne as if Mrs. Pierce's face grew very grave, and she wondered to herself if Aunt Anne Rose would really like to have her live with them.

"Your cheeks are just as red, and your eyes shine; you look just like a girl, Aunt Anne Rose," she said admiringly, as Mrs. Pierce took off her hat and brushed her pretty black hair, that waved back from her face.

"It's because I'm on a visit," declared Mrs. Pierce, "and a visit to Boston. I've always wanted to come, and here I am! Everybody looks young and pretty when she is happy, Anne. But I'm not young. I'm past forty, and I never was pretty," and the dark-eyed little woman smiled radiantly, as if everything in life was planned just right.

The Pierces declared that they could stay only two days, so that evening many plans were made that they should fill the time with as much pleasure as possible. Mr. Pierce had some business to attend to with various merchants, and Anne and Rose were eager to show Mrs. Pierce the shops, the fine houses and churches; and directly after breakfast the next morning Mrs. Freeman sent them all off. Millicent was quite happy to stay with Frederick and watch him finish the wooden doll, while Rose and Anne, with Aunt Anne Rose between them, started off to visit Mistress Mason's shop, where Mrs. Pierce insisted on buying the largest of the fine dolls as a present for little Millicent, a pink silk sash for Anne and a lace collar for Rose.

"I want you girls to think often of your new aunt," she said. "And I am hoping that when Anne's father comes he will decide to bring her to visit us. I have written a letter to him, Anne, and I will give it to you. You must hand it to him, and tell him that you would like to come."

"Yes, ma'am," answered the little girl, but not very eagerly. For Anne was now counting the hours until the "Yankee Hero" should reach Boston harbor, and when she and her dear father could sail off to Province Town and tell Aunt Martha all about the wonderful visit, and give Amanda the blue silk sash. She almost wished that Aunt Anne Rose had not told her about the letter.



CHAPTER XVII

THE STRANGE SCHOONER

On the morning when Mr. and Mrs. Pierce started for home, Rose and Anne went to Mistress Mason's shop on an errand. As they walked along the street Rose exclaimed suddenly: "Anne, look! There is one of father's best friends!" And Anne looked up to see a gentleman, wearing a cocked hat and red cloak, coming toward them. He was very erect and his wig was tied with a narrow ribbon.

"Good-morning, Mistress Rose," he said, and Anne thought to herself that his voice was very kind and pleasant.

"Good-morning, Mr. Adams," Rose responded. "This is Anne Nelson from Province Town."

The friendly smile now rested on Anne. "Let me see; was there not a little maid from Province Town who helped the cause of Liberty by carrying a message to Newburyport?" he asked, clasping her hand.

Anne looked up at him and smiled. "I went with Uncle Enos," she answered.

"So you did! And now you are a visitor in Boston, as I am myself, for my family are now living in Dedham," he responded pleasantly, and, with a friendly message for Mr. Freeman, he bade the girls good-bye, and walked on.

"That is Mr. Samuel Adams," explained Rose; "he came from Philadelphia but a few days ago. He signed the Declaration of Independence, Anne. And father says had it not been for Samuel Adams 'twould have been years before Congress would have come to so great a decision."

"And to think he knew of me!" said Anne.

"He knows of everybody who helped even a little bit toward American independence," said Rose. "Mr. Adams goes back to Philadelphia in September. 'Twill be a fine thing to write in your book, Anne, that you have spoken to him," said Rose, "and very likely your father will be pleased to have you go and stay with Mrs. Pierce. It's so much nearer Boston than Province Town, and the Pierces have such a pleasant house."

"It's not so pleasant as my Aunt Martha's," declared Anne loyally.

It seemed to Rose that it would be a very fortunate thing for her little friend to live with Aunt Anne Rose, and she could not understand Anne's eagerness to return to Province Town.

"May we not walk down to the wharf, Rose?" Anne asked eagerly. "Your father may have news of the ship."

But Mr. Freeman only shook his head, a little soberly, Anne thought, and the day passed without any sight or news of the "Yankee Hero."

Anne was not very happy that day. She wondered what would happen to her father if the English had captured his ship, and wished with all her heart that she was with Aunt Martha Stoddard. That night she dreamed of a fairy hid beneath her pillow, and that it whispered to her, "There is your father! Right beside the bed," and when she awoke the next morning Anne said to herself, "I feel happy, but I don't know why," and then decided that a good fairy had visited her. But when she went down-stairs, there in the front hall stood a dark man smiling as Anne exclaimed, "My father!"

For the "Yankee Hero" had arrived in the early evening of the previous night, and John Nelson had lost no time in making his way to Mr. Freeman's house, hoping for news of Anne. And he had tiptoed into her room for a look at his little daughter, just as the fairy whispered.

There was so much for Anne to tell him! John Nelson looked very grave when he heard of Anne's running away in the night.

"But Uncle Enos and Aunt Martha know that I believed they no longer wanted me," pleaded Anne. "And, oh, father, Aunt Martha said I was not to go to Brewster and journey to Boston with the Freemans to see you."

Anne had not known that her father could be so stern.

"You might never have been heard from, Anne, starting off like that. I do not know if Mistress Stoddard will be willing to again take charge of you," he said.

But after Rose had told him the story of their journey, of Anne's courage when they believed themselves prisoners in the house in the woods, and had said that it was really Amanda Cary's fault more than Anne's that she had run away, Mr. Nelson was quite ready to forgive her.

"I am glad indeed that my little girl has a good friend in Mrs. Pierce," said Mr. Nelson, after he had read Aunt Anne Rose's letter, "but I think we must go to Province Town at the first opportunity."

Anne now felt that there was nothing to wish for. With her dear father safe on shore, and the prospect of soon sailing away to Province Town she was quite happy.

"You must make Rose a fine present, Anne," he said one day as they came down King Street.

"I heard her say once that she hoped some day to have a gold ring," replied Anne.

"You shall give her one," said Mr. Nelson.

"I'll give it to her when I say good-bye," said Anne as they walked toward home.

"That may be to-morrow," responded Mr. Nelson, "for Mr. Freeman says that not a boat from Truro, Wellfleet or Province Town has come in to Boston for a week, so if the wind favors, 'tis like to-morrow will give us a chance for a passage."

Rose was on the porch, and as she watched Anne come up the path thought to herself that she would be very lonely without the little maid from Province Town.

"Captain Starkweather from Province Town is at father's wharf," she said, "and I had half a mind to tell him not to take any passengers back to Province Town, for father says he will start back when the tide serves very early to-morrow morning."

Mr. Nelson hurried away to the wharves, and Anne and Rose went up to the attic for Anne's book. "For I suppose we must pack up your things to-night," Rose said. "Your father has bought you a fine portmanteau. It's in your room now."

Anne picked up the book, and was eager to hurry to her room to see the new bag, but Rose detained her a moment.

"Why, Anne," she exclaimed, "you have left out the most important thing."

"What did I leave out?" questioned Anne.

"Why, about Amanda!" replied Rose. "You started this on purpose for Mistress Stoddard, so that she could know all about your running away."

"Oh," said Anne, in a tone of relief, "then I haven't forgotten anything. You see, Rose, Amanda told Aunt Martha all about it, so it's all right."

Rose looked at her little friend for a moment as if she were going to scold her, then she began to smile, and leaning down kissed the little girl's cheek.

"You know how to be a friend, Anne," she said, "and I'm sure Amanda will never do another hateful thing to you."

"Captain Starkweather says he'll take me to Province Town to see his boys some time," Frederick announced as the family gathered at the supper table, "and Anne's father tells me that if I go to Salem to-morrow I'll see ships that go to all parts of the world."

"That is true, my son," replied his father. "There's a ship now in Salem just arrived from Cadiz with a load of salt, and another with tea and silks from China. 'Twas great good fortune that they reached harbor safely. They would have been a fine prize for some British ship."

The Freemans all went down to the wharf with Anne the next morning. The fine portmanteau, filled with Anne's new clothing and with her gifts for the Province Town friends, was placed carefully in the little cabin. Captain Starkweather had already hoisted the sloop's mainsail, and gave Anne a warm welcome as her father helped her on board.

"Good-bye, good-bye, dear Rose," Anne called back.

As the sloop swung off from the wharf and the little girl looked back toward the friends who had been so kind to her there was a little mist in her eyes.

"It's good luck indeed to have this favoring wind," said Captain Starkweather, as the boat moved swiftly down the harbor. "I doubt not Amanda Cary is on the beach already hoping we may have sailed at midnight," and the Captain nodded smilingly toward Anne. "What are you watching so sharply, John?" he asked, for Mr. Nelson, shading his eyes with one hand, was watching a small schooner.

"Why, I'm wondering a bit about that schooner," he replied. "Her sails were hoisted and her anchor up when we left the wharf, and she's kept the same course. She couldn't be after us right in Boston harbor, but I don't like her keeping so close."

"'Tis hard work to know friends from foes on land or sea these days," said Captain Starkweather a little anxiously. For several fishermen had recently been captured by English vessels, the men taken to England, and their boats kept by the captors.

"Hoist the jib, John," directed the captain. "We'll sail away from that craft; I don't like her company."

Up went the jib, but the sloop did not increase the distance from the schooner. Both boats had now left Boston harbor well behind them. The sloop could not hope for any help now if the schooner really meant to capture it.

"There are guns on that schooner," exclaimed John Nelson. "Go into the cabin, Anne, and don't come out until I tell you to. Remember, stay in the cabin," and almost before she realized what had happened Anne found herself in the sloop's cabin, and the little door shut. A moment later she heard the bang! bang! of a gun, and felt the boat swing heavily to one side.



CHAPTER XVIII

A GREAT ADVENTURE

Anne's first impulse was to open the cabin door, but she had learned one lesson by her runaway journey—to obey and wait. It was very hard for the little girl to keep quiet, for she could hear her father's voice, and that of Captain Starkweather, and loud commands in strange voices, and the sloop seemed to be moving this way and that as if it had lost its pilot.

"We are captured by that English boat; I know we are," Anne whispered to herself.

And that was really what had happened. The English schooner had sent a shot through Captain Starkweather's fine new mainsail, followed by a command to lay to, and before Mr. Nelson had had time to fasten the door of the cabin, the schooner was abreast of the sloop and in a few moments the Province Town boat was taken in tow by the English schooner, and Mr. Nelson and Captain Starkweather found themselves prisoners.

"Leave 'em on deck, but make sure they can't move hands or feet," Anne heard a rough voice command, and there was the sound of scuffling feet, and gradually the noise ceased; and all that Anne could hear was a faint murmur of voices, and the ripple of the water against the side of the boat. These sounds gradually ceased, and the frightened child realized that the wind had died away, and that the boats were becalmed. She peered out of the little cabin window and saw that the English boat was very near. The tide sent the sloop close to the schooner, and now Anne could hear voices very plainly.

"Pull in that tow line, and make fast to the sloop," she heard the same gruff voice command, and in a few moments the sloop lay beside the schooner.

"I could get on board just as easy," Anne thought, and wondered if her father would tell the English that his little daughter was in the sloop's cabin.

Poor John Nelson, lying on the schooner's deck, tied hand and foot, feared every moment that his conquerors would discover that there was another passenger on board the boat. "They would not harm my little maid," he assured himself, "but there is food and water in the sloop's cabin, and Anne is best off there."

Both he and Captain Starkweather hoped that some American vessel might come to their rescue. But now that the wind had died away there was no chance of that for the present.

"A midsummer calm. May be stuck here for twenty-four hours," Anne heard a grumbling voice declare.

The long summer day dragged by. Anne opened the lunch basket, but had little appetite. At sunset there was a ripple of wind and the two boats, side by side, moved a short distance.

Anne, shut up in the tiny cabin, had come to a great resolve. "Father told me to stay here, but if I could creep aboard the schooner and untie the cords, then father and Captain Starkweather could get free," she thought. And the more she thought of it, the more sure she was that she could do it.

The twilight deepened, and now Anne ventured to push open the cabin door a little way. The sailors were in the forecastle, but Anne could see a dark figure in the stern of the schooner. She ventured out and softly closed the cabin door. Now, on her hands and knees, the little girl crept across the little space toward the side of the schooner. It looked like a black wall, but not very high above her, and there were ropes; and Anne was used to boats. Grasping a rope she drew herself up, hand over hand, until she could reach the deck-rail. Now she gave a swift glance toward the dark figure at the stern. "I do believe he's asleep," she thought, and Anne now pulled herself to the top of the rail and dropped noiselessly to the deck of the schooner. For a few moments she cowered in the shadow, and then looked anxiously about. Near the cabin she could see two black shadows, and knew that they were her father and Captain Starkweather.

Keeping close in the shadow Anne crept along the deck. But, noiseless as her progress had been, Anne had been seen the moment her little figure reached the top of the deck rail. John Nelson's keen eyes, staring into the summer night, had recognized his little daughter, and instantly realized that Anne meant to help them. He held his breath for fear that some sharp ear had caught a sound, and then whispered to his companion, "Don't move, or call out, captain; Anne is on deck and will help us."

The little girl was now close beside her father. "Feet first, Anne," he whispered, and Anne's eager fingers pulled and worked at the tough knots so securely tied until they loosened, and John Nelson could move his feet. Her father did not dare even whisper again. He longed to tell her to hurry, but dared not speak. Anne was now tugging and twisting at the rope which held her father's wrists, and managed to loosen it so that he could work his hands free. Then they both began to loosen Captain Starkweather's cords, and in a few minutes he too was free. The same thought was running through the minds of both men: If a girl like Anne had such courage, why couldn't two sailors make a prize of this good English boat?

"Go back to the sloop's cabin, Anne. We'll follow," whispered her father. And Anne obeyed. She was not afraid now. How easy it had been, she thought happily, as she slid down the rope to the sloop's deck, and found herself again in the little cabin.

The dark figure, dozing at the schooner's helm, did not see the two creeping men who so suddenly were upon him. A twisted scarf over his mouth, and no sound to warn his mates, his hands and feet bound with the very cords that had secured his prisoners, he was left a captive. Then John Nelson and Captain Starkweather sped toward the forecastle; the open hatchway was closed so quickly that the men below hardly realized what had happened, and it was securely fastened before they could help themselves.

"The breeze is coming," declared Captain Starkweather. "Shall we put back to Boston, John? We'll not know what to do with this craft in Province Town."

"A good night's work this, and Boston folk will be glad to see this English 'Sea Bird' come in to her harbor. 'Tis the same craft that has caused so much trouble to fishing boats. I'll bring Anne on board," and John Nelson ran to the schooner's side and called, "Anne! Anne!" A moment later and he lifted his little daughter to the deck of the schooner.

"You are a brave child," declared Captain Starkweather. "This schooner is really your prize, for 'tis by your courage that we have taken her."

The schooner's course was changed, and, the wind increasing, she swept off toward Boston harbor.

"'Twill be a good tale for Mr. Samuel Adams to hear," said Captain Starkweather, "and you will indeed be proud of your little daughter, John. I doubt not but this will be printed in the Boston papers, and news of it sent to General Washington himself."

It was hardly sunrise when the "Sea Bird," towing Captain Starkweather's sloop, came to anchor off the Freemans' wharf. John Nelson's hail to a friendly fisherman brought a number of boats alongside, and when he had told them of how the capture was made a chorus of huzzas filled the air. The news was carried to the other vessels in the harbor, and the "Sea Bird" was soon surrounded by small boats. One of these boats pulled for the shore, and its crew spread the news that a little girl and two sailors from Province Town had captured and brought into harbor a fine English schooner. Mr. Freeman heard the news on his way to the wharf, and saw the crew of the "Sea Bird" being marched up the street under a strong guard. The church bells were rung, and when John Nelson and Anne reached shore they were welcomed by cheers.

Rose came hurrying through the crowd.

"Oh, Anne!" she exclaimed. "Here is Mr. Samuel Adams waiting to speak to you! You are the bravest girl in the colony."

"'Twill be a wonderful thing to tell Amanda," said Anne happily. "Even Amos could hope for no finer adventure."

"There'll be prize money," added Frederick. "I heard my father say that there'll be a large sum for you and your father and for Captain Starkweather."

It was a week later when they sailed once more for Province Town. It was decided that it would be safer to leave the harbor at nightfall, when there would be a better chance of the sloop not being recognized and followed by some watchful craft lurking in the lower harbor. This time the little cabin was nearly filled, for Captain Starkweather was taking gifts to each one of his six boys, beside wonderful packages for their mother, and Anne and her father could hardly wait for the time when Uncle Enos and Aunt Martha should see the set of lustre ware, the fine pewter, and the boxes of figs, dates, jellies and sweets which they were taking to Province Town.



CHAPTER XIX

"HOMEWARD BOUND"

Captain Starkweather had renamed his sloop. The old name had been painted out, and now, on each side of the boat, in gilt letters on a white scroll the new name "Anne Nelson" could be seen.

The little craft was anchored off the Freeman wharf, and at early twilight Mr. Nelson and Anne said their good-byes to the Freemans, and put off in the sloop's tender. Captain Starkweather was on board the sloop, and as noiselessly as possible they made ready to start.

The favoring winds swept the little craft along, and as the sun came smiling up from the far horizon Anne awoke, and was quite ready for the crackers, boiled eggs and doughnuts that Mrs. Freeman had packed for their breakfast.

The long "arm" of land now stretched out as if to welcome the returning voyagers, and the sloop ran in beside the little pier just as Captain Enos and Jimmie Starkweather came down the beach.

"Been watching your craft since sunup," declared Uncle Enos. "What's kept you in Boston so long, Starkweather? We began to worry about you, John, and feared some ill news of our little maid."

Anne did not wait to hear her father tell the story of their great adventure, but ran swiftly up the path toward home. Aunt Martha was standing in the doorway, and as Anne saw the loving smile and felt the kind arms encircle her she was indeed sure that this was home, and that the most fortunate thing that had ever befallen her had been the welcome Aunt Martha had given her two years before, when she had come to that very door asking for shelter.

How much there was to tell! And how Aunt Martha exclaimed over the adventures of her little maid, and thanked heaven that she was safely back in Province Town.

Then when Uncle Enos and John Nelson came up the path, each wheeling a barrow filled with the fine gifts that Anne and her father had brought home, then indeed did Mistress Stoddard declare that it was enough to make one believe in good fairies. And that reminded Anne of Caroline's story, which she had written down in the book.

Captain Enos put on his glasses and looked the book over admiringly.

"It should be in print," he declared; "this book is the finest thing of all, Anne. 'Twould be an excellent idea, Martha, for us to ask the neighborhood in to hear it read."

But Mrs. Stoddard shook her head, and said Anne must not think too well of what, after all, was Miss Rose Freeman's book as much as it was Anne's. "You must not overpraise our little maid," she warned Captain Enos reprovingly. But the book was ever one of Mistress Stoddard's most valued treasures, and was kept with "Pilgrim's Progress" in the big chest.

It was late in the afternoon before all the dishes, pewter, the fine new table-cloths, and the pretty brown cloth for Mistress Stoddard's new gown, were unpacked.

"This package is for Amanda," Anne said, holding up a good-sized bundle.

"For Amanda, indeed!" exclaimed Mistress Stoddard. "I'm not too sure that she deserves it. 'Twas she that sent you out into the night, thinking your Aunt Martha hard-hearted and unfair. And now a fine present for her—I do not know about it."

"Oh, Aunt Martha, Amanda didn't mean to," pleaded Anne, "and she came and told you."

Anne picked up the bundle and sped away. Down past the spring and up the sandy path toward Amanda's home she ran, hoping to meet Amanda coming to welcome her. Amanda was on the door-step with her knitting. At the sight of Anne she started up as if to run indoors, but Anne's call made her hesitate, and in a moment Anne was beside her, saying: "Amanda! Amanda! Isn't it fine that I am home again! And see, I've brought you these presents from Boston. See, Amanda!" and she held up the silk sash, and spread out the pretty dimity.

But instead of exclaiming with delight, as Anne had expected, poor Amanda dropped her work, covered her face with her hands and began to cry.

"Stop crying, Amanda Cary! You'll get spots on your lovely sash," said Anne, and Amanda's tears ceased in sudden terror lest she spoil that wonderful length of shining blue silk.

"Taste of that barley sugar, Amanda," continued Anne, opening a heart-shaped box, and helping herself to a piece. Amanda obeyed almost unconsciously, and when Mrs. Cary came to the door a little later she found the two girls sitting close together, talking and laughing.

That night after Anne was fast asleep in the little loft chamber, John Nelson told his good friends that he wished all the little settlement to share in his good fortune.

"My little maid and I have found a home and friends here," he said, "and I should like well to do some friendly thing for the people before I return to Boston."

"'Twould be a pleasant thing for us all to have a day together, and a good dinner," suggested Mistress Stoddard, "with figs, dates, and some of those fine crackers and jellies, and of course, a good fish chowder; 'twould be a treat indeed," and so it was decided that the neighborhood should be bidden to come as the guests of John Nelson and Anne for a day's pleasuring.

"We'll spread a sail in the yard to make a shelter from the sun," suggested Captain Enos.

"I'll make the chowder myself," declared John Nelson. "Mistress Stoddard shall not be burdened with work, and I'll see that the Starkweather boys earn a shilling by helping me," and it was settled that the following Thursday should be the day.

Anne thought it the finest plan in the world, and she and Amanda brought branches of pine, and fragrant fir balsam to cover the ground under the big sail. Mrs. Stoddard insisted on spreading her two new fine table-cloths over the rough table, and on using her tall pewter pitchers.

"And Elder Haven is to have a plate and cup of china," she said proudly.

Not a boat put out from harbor on that Thursday morning, and the day was not far advanced when the guests, all wearing their Sunday best, began to come up the hill toward Captain Stoddard's house. John Nelson and Anne gave them all a warm welcome, and as they all stood together around the white covered table and Elder Haven asked a blessing to rest on them all it seemed to Anne and Amanda that it was the happiest day that Province Town had ever known.



The Stories in this Series are:

A LITTLE MAID OF PROVINCE TOWN A LITTLE MAID OF MASSACHUSETTS COLONY A LITTLE MAID OF NARRAGANSETT BAY



TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE:

Minor changes have been made to correct typesetters' errors; otherwise, every effort has been made to remain true to the author's words and intent.

THE END