"Amos, Amos, just see how fast we are going," said Amanda; "we'll be carried right out to sea."

"Well, then some vessel will pick us up and bring us back," answered her brother, "but it looks now as if we would bring up on Long Point, and we can walk home from there easy enough. It's only a couple of miles."

"Perhaps we could get home before they missed us," suggested Anne, hopefully.

Amos nodded; he was still busy with the big fish, but in a few moments he began to look anxiously ahead.

"The wind's pulling round to the southeast," he said. "I guess we sha'n't hit Long Point after all."

"We're going right into Wood End," declared Amanda, "or else to House Point Island. Oh, Amos, if we land on that island nobody will ever find us."

"It will be better to land anywhere than to be carried beyond Race Point," said Amos; "the wind is growing stronger every minute."

The three children no longer felt any interest in their fish-lines. Amos had drawn his line in when they started off from shore, and Amanda had let go of hers when the first oar was lost. Anne was the only one who had kept a firm hold on her line, and now she drew it in and coiled it carefully around the smooth piece of wood to which it was fastened.

"I'll get this boat ashore some way," declared Amos boldly; "if we run near any land I'll jump overboard with the painter and pull the dory to shore. I'll get up in the bow now so's to be ready."

Neither of the little girls said anything. Amanda was ready to cry with fear, and Anne was watching the sky anxiously.

"The sun is all covered up with clouds," she said, and before Amos could answer there came a patter of raindrops. The wind, too, increased in force and the waves grew higher. Anne and Amanda crouched low in the boat, while Amos in the bow peered anxiously ahead.

Within the curve of the shore of Race Point lay House Point Island, where Amos hoped they might land. It was a small island partly covered with scrubby thickets but no tall trees, and with shallow water all about it. Amos was sure that he could pull the clumsy boat to shore if the wind would only set a little in that direction. The September afternoon was growing late, the sky was now completely overcast, and the rain falling steadily.

"We're getting near the island," said Amos. "I'll slide overboard in a minute, and all you girls need do is keep still till I tell you to jump," and Amos, the painter of the dory in one hand, slipped over the high bow of the boat and struck out for shore. He was a strong swimmer, and managed to change the course of the boat so that it swung in toward the shallow water, and in a few minutes Amos got a foothold on the sand, and pulled strongly on the rope until the boat was well out of the outward sweep of the current.

"Now jump out," he commanded; "you on one side, Anne, and Amanda on the other, and take hold of the side and help pull the boat ashore."

The two girls obeyed instantly, and the three dripping children struggled up the beach, pulling the dory beyond reach of the tide.

"We must be sure this boat is safe," said Amos; "if we can get it up a little further, we can tip it up on one side and crawl under and get out of the rain."

The codfish, plaice and flounder Amos took out carefully and carried to a large rock further up the beach. "We'll have to eat those fish if we stay here very long," he said.

It grew dark early and the children, under the shelter of the boat, peered out at the rushing waves, listened to the wind, and were very glad that they were on shore, even if it was an island and miles away from home.

"Nobody can find us to-night," said Anne, "but prob'ly to-morrow morning, first thing, my Uncle Enos and your father will take a boat and come sailing right down after us."

"How will they know where we are?" whimpered Amanda. "We'll have to stay here always; I know we shall."

"If we do I'll build a brush house," said Amos hopefully, "and there's lots of beach-plums grow on this island, I've heard folks say; and we'll cook those fish and I'll bet I can find mussels along the shore."

"We can't cook anything," said Anne, "for we can't make any fire."

"I can make a fire when things get dry," said Amos; "how do you suppose Indians make fires when they are off like this? An Indian doesn't care where he is because he knows how to get things to eat and how to cook them, and how to make a shelter. I've wished lots of times that I'd had the chances to learn things that Indians have."

The boat proved a shelter against the wind, and the long night wore slowly away. Amos slept soundly, but neither Anne nor Amanda could sleep, except in short naps from which they quickly awakened. The storm ceased in the night and the sun came up and sent its warm beams down on the shivering children, who crept out from the dory and ran and jumped about on the sand until they were quite warm and very hungry.

Amos went searching along the shore for the round dark-shelled mussels which he knew were good to eat, and Anne and Amanda went up toward the thick-growing bushes beyond the sand-banks to look for beach-plums.

"Look, Anne! Look! Did you ever see so many on one bush?" exclaimed Amanda, and the bush was indeed well filled with the appetizing fruit.

"We must take a lot to Amos," said Anne, "for he is getting mussels for us now."

"Yes, indeed," agreed Amanda; "do you suppose they will come after us this morning, Anne?"

"Of course they will, first thing," replied Anne hopefully, so that Amanda grew more cheerful, and when they got back to the boat with aprons full of beach-plums and found Amos waiting for them with a fine lot of fresh mussels they quite forgot to be troubled or unhappy. The sun was shining brightly, the blue water looked calm and smooth, and the wind had entirely gone. They ate the plums and mussels hungrily.

"We'd better look around a little," said Amos, when they had finished, "and see if we can find a good place for a brush house. We ought to build it near the shore so that we can keep a watch for any passing boat."

"Won't father find us to-day?" asked Amanda anxiously.

"Can't tell," replied her brother; "anyway we want to get ready to build a house, for we might have to stay here a week."

"I believe you want to stay a week, Amos Cary!" exclaimed his sister.

"I'd just as soon stay as not," said Amos, "if I can find some rotten wood like the Indians use to start a fire; but it isn't much use to look for it until things begin to dry up."

Amos, followed closely by the little girls, went up the bank and toward a place where grew a thicket of small pines. "We can break off a lot of these branches and carry them down to the shore," he said, "and fix some beds of them under one side of the dory. It will be better than sleeping on the sand."

They made several trips back and forth to the boat with armfuls of pine boughs until they each had quite a pile, long and wide enough for a bed, and high enough to keep them well off the sand. But Amos was not satisfied.

"This sand-bank makes a good back for a house," he said; "now if we could only build up sides, and fix some kind of a roof, it would make a fine house."

"Won't the dory do for one side?" asked Anne.

"No," said Amos, "but we can pile up heaps of sand here on each side of our beds, right against this sand-bank, and that will make three sides of a house, and then we'll think of something for the roof."

So they all went to work piling up the sand. It was hard work, and it took a long time before the loose sand could be piled up high enough for Anne and Amanda to crouch down behind.

"I'm dreadful hungry," said Amanda, after they had worked steadily for some time; "let's rest and eat some mussels and beach-plums," and Amos and Anne were both quite ready to stop work.

"It must be past noon now," said Amos, looking at the sun, "and there hasn't a boat come in sight."

Anne had begun to look very serious. "My Aunt Martha may think that I have run away," she said, as they sat leaning back against the piles of warm sand.

"No, she won't," Amos assured her, "for they'll find out right off that Amanda and I are gone, and father's dory, and it won't take father or Captain Enos long to guess what's happened; only they'll think that we have been carried out to sea."

The little girls were very silent after this, until Amos jumped up saying: "I've just thought of a splendid plan. We'll pile up sand just as high as we can on both sides. Then I'll take those fish-lines and cut them in pieces long enough to reach across from one sand heap to the other, and tie rocks on each end of the lines and put them across."

"I don't think fish-lines will make much of a roof," said Amanda.

"And after I get the lines across," went on Amos, not heeding what his sister had said, "we'll lay these pine boughs across the lines. See? We can have the branches come well over each side and lap one row over another and make a fine roof," and Amos jumped about, greatly pleased with his own invention.

They all returned to piling up sand and before sunset had made walls taller than their heads, and Amos had put the lines across and the covering of pine boughs, so that it was nicely roofed in.

"It will be a lot better than sleeping under the dory," said Anne, as they looked proudly at the little shelter, "and there's pine boughs enough left for beds, too!"

"We can get more to-morrow," said Amos, "and we'll have a fire to-morrow if I can only find some punk, and cook those fish."

"But I want to go home to-morrow," said Amanda; "I know my mother wants me. We've got a boat; can't you make an oar and row us home, Amos?"

"There isn't anything to make an oar out of," answered Amos.

They made their supper on more mussels and beach-plums, and then lay down on their beds of boughs in the little enclosure. They could see the moon shining over the water, the big dory hauled up in front of their shelter, and they all felt very glad that they were not drifting out at sea.

Amos had many plans in his head, and was eager for another day to come that he might carry them out, but Amanda and Anne went to sleep hoping only that the next day would see one of the big fishing-boats of Province Town come sailing up to the island to take them safely home.



CHAPTER IX

THE CASTAWAYS

"My, it was cold last night," shivered Amanda, as she and Anne went toward the spring of fresh water which bubbled up near the shore for their morning drink. "I do wish Amos would plan some way to get us home to-day."

"How can he?" asked Anne; "he hasn't any oars, and see what a long way it is across the water to Long Point. He couldn't swim that far."

"Yes, he could, too," declared Amanda, "and when the tide is out the water is so shallow that you can see the yellow sand shining through. He could swim some and walk some, and he'd get over there all right; then he could walk home and tell father and Captain Enos and they would come right after us."

"Why doesn't he go then?" questioned Anne. "I do know that my Aunt Martha is sadly worried; it is full two days since we set forth."

"Amos likes to stay here," said Amanda, lowering her voice to a whisper; "he thinks it is fun to live as Indians do, and he doesn't want to go home. If he gets enough to eat he'll stay and stay, and then he can tell Jimmie Starkweather of being wrecked on an island."

"Couldn't we get across to Long Point?" asked Anne.

"No. We can't swim, and 'twould be foolish to try," answered Amanda.

"We'll have cooked fish for dinner," said Amos as they ate beach-plums for breakfast. "I'm sure I can find some punk somewhere on this island, and while I am looking for it you girls gather all the dry twigs you can find, make a good-sized hole in the sand and fill it up with dry stuff that will take fire quickly, and I'll show you how Indians cook."

"I'd rather have some Indian meal mush," replied Amanda; "can't you swim across to Long Point, Amos, and hurry home and send some one after us?"

Amos looked at her in astonishment, and then smiled broadly. "I know a better way than that," he said, and without waiting to answer the girl's eager questions he ran off toward the thicket of pines.

"We'll dig the hole in the sand, and then find some dry wood," said Anne; "anything cooked will taste good, won't it?"

"Amos knows some way to get us home," said Amanda, "and he's got to tell us what it is, and start just as soon as he cooks his old fish. I wonder what it is!"

Now that Amanda saw a prospect of getting home she felt more cheerful and so did Anne; and they gathered dry brush, bits of bark and handfuls of the sunburned beach-grass until the hole in the sand was filled, and there was a good-sized heap of dry brush over it.

"Do you suppose Amos can really make a fire?" asked Anne.

"I guess he can," said Amanda. "Amos is real smart at queer things like that, that other boys don't think about."

"I've found some!" shouted Amos, as he leaped down the bank; "just a little bit, in the stump of an old oak tree up here. Now wait till I get the thole-pins, and you'll see," and he ran toward the dory and returned with a pair of smooth, round thole-pins, and sat down on the sand in front of the brush heap. The precious piece of punk was carefully wrapped in a piece of the sleeve of his flannel blouse.

"I had to tear it off," he explained, when Amanda pointed to the ragged slit, "for punk must be kept dry or it isn't a bit of use."

He now spread the bit of flannel on the sand in front of him, and kneeling down beside it began to rub the thole-pins across each other as fast as he could move his hands. Anne and Amanda, kneeling on each side of him, looked on with anxious eyes.

"There's a spark!" at last shouted Amanda.

The spark fell on the dry punk, in an instant the punk caught and there were several sparks, then Amos held a wisp of dry grass in front of it and blew vigorously, and the smouldering punk flamed up, the grass caught, Amos thrust it under the dry brush, and in less than a minute the whole mass was burning briskly. The children all jumped about it in delight.

"My, I wish we could have had a fire like that last night, when I was so cold," said Amanda.

"We'll keep it burning now," said Amos. "I've always wanted to start a fire this way. I think it's better than flint and tinder," for in those days the wooden splint matches were not known in the settlement, and fires were started by rubbing flint and steel together until a spark caught.

"We are going home this afternoon," said Amanda, so firmly that Amos looked at her in surprise.

"What for?" he asked. "I think it's fine here. We've got a house and a fire, and we'll have fish enough to last——"

"We are going home," interrupted Amanda; "it's horrid here, and everybody will be afraid we are drowned."

A little smile crept over Amos's freckled face. "'twill indeed be a tale to tell Jimmie Starkweather," he said, looking admiringly at the brush-covered shelter, and then at the brisk fire. "'Tis a shipwreck such as no boy in the settlement has had."

Amos asked no more questions, but sent the girls after more dry brush, while he dug another hole in the sand. Then with a long stick he pushed the hot wood and coals from the first hole into the second, and carefully laid the big plaice fish on the hot sand, pushed a thick covering of hot sand over it, and started a new fire on top of it.

"'twill be baked to a turn," he said to his sister and Anne; "'Tis the way the Indians cook fish and mussels and clams. I have seen them."

"We'll go home as soon as we can eat it," said Amanda; "'twill be low tide by that time, and if you have no better plan for us, Amos, Anne and I will wade to Long Point."

"Wade!" repeated Amos scornfully; "you'd be drowned."

"Then tell us your plan," urged Amanda, while Anne looked at him pleadingly. She had thought much about her father as she lay awake under the roof of pine boughs, and wondered if some word from him might not have reached the settlement. She thought, too, about the scarlet stockings, and wished herself back in the little brown house on the hill. So she said, "We must go home, Amos."

"I wish you girls had stayed home," muttered Amos; "if some of the boys had come we'd have had a good time here; but girls always want to go home. Well, I'll get you to Long Point without swimming," and again Amos smiled, for he had a secret of his own that he knew would greatly surprise Amanda and Anne.

It was not long before he began scraping the hot embers from the sand under which the fish was cooking. Then he poked the hot sand away, and there lay the plaice, steaming and smoking, and sending out an appetizing odor.

"There!" said Amos proudly, as he managed to cut off a piece with his jack-knife for each of the girls, "that's as good fish as you ever tasted."

"It's the best," said Anne, and Amanda ate hungrily. Indeed the children were all so hungry that they devoured the entire fish.

"If you'll stay till to-morrow I'll cook the cod," said Amos, but both Amanda and Anne said they wanted to go home. So Amos with their help pushed and dragged the dory into the water, and then telling the girls to stay right by the boat until he returned, started off up the beach to where he had found the mussels. In a few minutes they saw him running back.

"Look, Amanda!" exclaimed Anne, "he's found an oar!"

The little girls could hardly believe it possible; but Amos was smiling and seemed to think it was a great joke.

"I found it yesterday morning, the very first thing, when you were off after beach-plums," he explained, "and I hid it, because I knew if I told you I'd found an oar you'd want to start for home right off; and as long as we were here I wanted some fun out of it. Now jump in, and I'll scull you over to Long Point in no time."

The girls were too glad at the idea of really starting for home to blame Amos for keeping them on the island so long, but Anne thought to herself that she was sure that none of the Starkweather boys would have hidden the oar. "Amos is smart, but he's selfish," she decided, as the boy bent to the big oar and sent the clumsy boat toward Long Point.

"'Tis a good oar, better than the one I lost," said Amos, "and I do think 'twas lost from one of the English ships. There's a big 'S' burned into the handle. Mayhap it belonged to the 'Somerset.' If so I'm glad they lost it."

"'twas the 'Somerset' ran down my father's boat and nigh drowned him," said Anne, "and the sailors lent him no help, but laughed to see him struggle till he reached near enough their ship to clamber up."

"I wish I could be a soldier like your father," said Amos, and at this Anne looked upon him more kindly.

"Scull faster, Amos," urged Amanda; "the sun is not two hours high, and 'Tis a long walk through the sand before we can get home. I do hope we'll get there before milking time that I may have a drink of warm milk."

When the boat touched the sandy shore of Long Point, Anne and Amanda scrambled over the bow and urged Amos to hurry.

"I must make the boat safe," he said; "'twould be a sad loss to have the tide take her out. And I'll hide this good oar, too. To-morrow Jimmie Starkweather and I will sail down and tow her back, and maybe take a look at the island," and Amos looked back regretfully to the shores they had just left.

The dory was drawn up beyond reach of the tide, the oar hidden under the sand, and the children started on their walk toward home. The distance was but two miles, but walking through the loose sand was hard and tiresome.

"I slip back a step every step I take," said Anne; "look, the sun is nearly out of sight now."

"The milk will be strained and set ere this," said Amanda mournfully; "there's not even a beach-plum grows on this point, and the long grass cuts my feet whenever I come near it."

"You could have had another baked fish by this time if you would have stayed on the island," said Amos complainingly.

After this the children plodded on in silence for a long time. The harvest moon rose beyond the harbor and smiled down upon them. There was a silvery glint all over the water, and as they came round one of the big piles of sand, which are so often seen along the coast of Cape Cod, they all stopped and looked out across the harbor. It was Amos who pointed toward a big ship riding at anchor, perhaps a mile from the shore.

"There's the 'Somerset' back again," he said. "I wonder if there's any harm done at the settlement?"



CHAPTER X

SAFE AT HOME

It was late in the evening when the three tired, hungry children reached the settlement. Amanda and Amos ran up the path to their door and Anne plodded on toward Mrs. Stoddard's, nearly a half mile from the Cary house.

There was not a light to be seen in the village, but Anne could see the shining lanterns on the "Somerset" sending narrow rays of light across the water. But she was too tired to think of the British ship, or of anything except how good it would be to sleep in a real bed again.

At Mrs. Stoddard's door she stood for a moment wondering if she could not creep in and up-stairs without waking Uncle Enos and Aunt Martha; she tried the door softly, but it was bolted, so she rattled the latch and called, "Aunt Martha! Uncle Enos!" a sudden fear filling her heart that they might not hear her and that she might have to sleep on the door-step.

But in an instant she heard steps hurrying across the kitchen floor, the big bolt was pulled back, the door swung open, and Anne was warmly clasped in Aunt Martha's arms. Uncle Enos hurried close behind her, and Anne was drawn into the kitchen with many exclamations of wonder and joy.

"Light a candle that we may look at her," said Aunt Martha, "and start up a fire. 'Tis a chilly night, and the child must have some warm porridge."

It was not long before the fire was burning brightly, a kettle of hot water bubbling cheerfully, that Anne might have a warm bath to rest and soothe her tired limbs, and Anne, sitting on Aunt Martha's lap, was eating a bowl of hot porridge and telling the story of her adventures.

"House Point Island, eh?" said Uncle Enos; "'Tis lucky there was an island just there, even so low a one as that. In a hundred years or so the tides and waves will sweep it away."

Anne told of the brush-covered shelter, of Amos making a fire and cooking the fish, and of their journey home, while her kind friends listened eagerly.

"We feared the boat had been carried out to sea and that our little maid was lost," said Aunt Martha, "and the men have looked for you all about the shore. The 'Somerset' is in harbor and its crew are doing much mischief on shore, so that we have had much to disturb us. What a tangle of hair this is for me to brush out," she added, passing a tender hand over Anne's dark locks.

How good the warm water felt to Anne's bruised feet; and she was sure that nothing ever tasted so good as the porridge. The rough hair was brushed into smooth braids, and it was a very happy little girl who went to sleep in the upper chamber with her wooden doll beside her, and the white kitten curled up on the foot of her bed.

"I'm glad I'm not a little Indian girl," was Anne's last thought before she went to sleep.

It was late the next morning when she awoke. Her soiled and torn clothes were not to be seen, but a dress of clean cotton and a fresh pinafore lay on the wooden stool.

"My, it's nice to be clean," thought Anne, remembering the uncomfortable efforts that she and Amanda had made to wash their faces in water from the island spring.

"It's near noon, dear child," said Mrs. Stoddard, as Anne came into the kitchen. "You shall have a boiled egg for your breakfast, and I am cooking a fine johnnycake for you before the fire. You must be nigh starved. To think of that Amos Cary hiding the oar instead of fetching you straight home."

"But he worked all the time to make a house for us, and to cook the fish," explained Anne, "and he speaks well of my father. I like him better than when he called me names."

"Of course you do, child; and I did not think him so smart a boy as he proves. 'twas no small thing to start a fire as he did."

"'twas Amanda made him come home," said Anne; "she told him we would walk through the water to the Point, and then he said he would fetch us."

"Your Uncle Enos thinks Amos may make a good sailor," said Aunt Martha. "Indeed, if it were not for these British ships hovering about our shores it is likely that Skipper Cary would have been off to the Banks and taken Amos with him."

The "Banks" were the fishing grounds off the island of Newfoundland, and for several years the Cape Cod fishermen had made summer cruises there, coming home with big cargoes of fine fish which they sold in the Boston market at excellent prices. These fishing grounds were called the "Banks," because of the heavy banks of fog which settled down in that region.

After Anne had finished her breakfast she went to Mrs. Stoddard's big work-basket, and took out her knitting-work.

"May I not knit a long time to-day, Aunt Martha?" she asked. "My feet ache sorely, and I should like well to knit."

"That is right," answered Mrs. Stoddard, nodding her approval. "Your Uncle Enos drove Brownie over the hill where the sailors from the 'Somerset' will not be like to see her, and we will both stay indoors to-day and knit. Maybe we shall begin to read to-day, also."

"After I have knit a good stint," said Anne, "for 'twill be time for stockings soon."

It was a happy morning for the little girl. She worked steadily and carefully until Captain Enos came up from the shore for his noon meal.

"Well, well," he said smilingly, "now this seems good—to see our little maid safe at home by the window with her knitting. I saw Mistress Starkweather as I came home, and she bade me tell you she should walk this way to see you this afternoon. 'Tis a great day for Amos," continued the captain; "he tells all the boys in the village of his great adventure in rounding Long Point and living two days on an island. You'd think he'd seen Terra del Fuego, to say the least."



"And what is Terra del Fuego?" asked Anne wonderingly.

"'Tis a far island, Anne, in warm southern seas, such a distance as few Cape Cod sailors ever go; though we go to most places, I will say," he added with a hearty laugh.

"Amos and Jimmie Starkweather were all for sailing off this morning to bring the dory home," he continued, "but a boatload of the 'Somerset's' men stopped them and sent them ashore, threatening to dismast any sloop that put up a sail in this harbor without their permission."

Anne knit steadily on, thinking of her father, and wondering if these men on board the "Somerset" had any knowledge of him. But she asked no questions, knowing that Captain Enos would tell her if any news came.

The scarlet stockings had made good progress when Mistress Starkweather was seen coming up the sandy path. Anne ran to the door to meet her, and the good woman kissed her heartily. "To think of the danger you were in, dear child," she said, as Anne led her into the sunny kitchen and drew out the most comfortable chair for her.

"Amos was not afraid," said Anne, "but Amanda and I did wish ourselves home."

"I'll warrant that boy would not be afraid of the water, storm or no storm," said Mrs. Stoddard, drawing her own chair near to her neighbor's; "yet Captain Enos tells that he fled from our Anne here when she threw water at him," and the two women smiled, remembering the little girl's loyal defense of her absent father.

"School is to begin next Monday, if all goes well," continued Mrs. Starkweather, "and beside that the minister declared we must all come more punctually to church. Last Sunday there were but seven in the meeting-house," and Mrs. Starkweather's face grew sober.

"I shall not have time to learn to read long words before Monday," said Anne anxiously.

"I planned to teach the child a little before school begins," explained Mrs. Stoddard, "from Captain Enos's 'Pilgrim's Progress.' His mother bought the book in Boston, and he treasures it."

"And no wonder," replied Mrs. Starkweather; "beside the Bible there are few books in any household in the settlement. I doubt if the minister can lay claim to a half dozen. He has his knowledge in his head."

"And so should all people have," said Mrs. Stoddard. "Anne, go to the big red chest in my bedroom and take out the book that lays there and fetch it to me. Mayhap Mistress Starkweather would like to see it."

Anne quickly obeyed. The big red chest was one that Captain Enos had carried when he went on whaling voyages. It had handles of twisted rope, and a huge padlock swung from an iron loop in front. Anne lifted the top and reached in after the book; but the chest was deep; there were only a few articles on the bottom of the chest, and she could not reach it. So she pushed the lid back until it rested against the wall, and stepped into the chest, stooping down to pick up the book. As she leaned over, bang,—down came the lid to the chest, shutting Anne closely in. For an instant the child was too frightened to move, as she lay on her face in the big chest; then she tried to sit up, and found she could not. She tried to call "Aunt Martha," but her voice sounded thick and muffled.

In the kitchen the two neighbors sat waiting for Anne and the book.

"Anne! Anne!" called Mrs. Stoddard. "Why, the child is usually so spry. I wonder what keeps her," and she went into the bedroom.

"Did Anne slip out while we talked?" she called back to Mrs. Starkweather. "She's not here."

Just then there came a sound from the chest. "Pity's sake!" exclaimed Mrs. Stoddard. "I do believe Anne is in the chest," and she hastened to swing back the big lid and to lift the half-stifled child out.

"Did you ever!" she said. "How came you in the chest, child?"

"I got in to get the book and the lid fell on me," half whispered Anne, clinging to Mrs. Stoddard's skirts.

"Well, well, child, there is no harm done," said Mrs. Stoddard, "but 'Tis not a safe thing to get into chests. I will get the book. I thought your arms were longer," and Mrs. Stoddard reached into the sea-chest and drew out a long black-covered book. "It has many pictures," she said. "I wonder I have not shown it to Anne before."

Mrs. Starkweather looked at the book admiringly, and Mrs. Stoddard took Anne in her lap that they might all enjoy the pictures together.

"Look," she said; "here is Christian setting forth on his journey, and here are Obstinate and Pliable, two of his neighbors, following him to urge him to come home."

Anne looked at the picture eagerly. She had never seen pictures in a book before, and it seemed very wonderful to her.

"It is a good story," said Mrs. Starkweather. "True, it is said to be but a dream, but I read it in my youth and liked it well. It has been a treat to see it, Mrs. Stoddard. 'Tis seldom I have so care-free an afternoon. Six boys to look after keep me busy," and the good woman rose from her chair and with cordial words of good-bye started for home.

"I wish I could read this book," said Anne, turning the leaves over carefully and wondering what the pictures meant.

"So you shall. We'll read a little now. Come, you shall spell out the words, and I will speak them for you and tell you their meaning."

An hour later when Captain Enos stepped into the kitchen he declared that he thought school had begun there; and while Mrs. Stoddard hurried about to prepare supper Uncle Enos continued Anne's reading lesson.

"Perhaps I can read this book after I go to school," said Anne.

"That you can," answered the captain.

"And I will learn to write," said Anne, "and it may be I could send a letter to my dear father."

"That is a good child," said Captain Enos, patting the dark head; "learn to write and we'll set about starting the letter to your father as soon as you have it ready."

"I shall have much to tell him," said Anne, smiling up into Uncle Enos's kind face.

"And he'll have a good deal to tell you," replied Captain Enos. "I wish I could see him myself. I'd like news of what's going on in Boston."



CHAPTER XI

CAPTAIN ENOS'S SECRETS

The playhouse under the pines was almost forgotten as the days grew colder, and the fall rains came, with high winds; and Anne's scarlet stocking was now long enough for Aunt Martha to "set the heel" and begin to shape the foot. School had begun in Elder Haven's sitting-room, with fourteen scholars, and Anne was learning to write.

"Master Haven says I write my own name nicely," she said at the end of the first week, "and that by the time school closes he thinks I can write a letter."

Captain Enos nodded approvingly. He and Anne were sitting before a bright fire of driftwood in the pleasant kitchen, while Mrs. Stoddard had gone to Mrs. Starkweather's for more scarlet yarn. Anne was knitting busily; her wooden doll sat on the floor, and the white kitten was curled up close to the little girl's feet. Captain Enos had several pieces of smooth cedar wood on a stool near his chair, and was at work upon one with his sharp jack-knife.

"Well, well!" he said, looking up from his whittling. "That will please thy father, Anne. And learn as fast as you can, for I see a fair chance of sending a letter to Boston, when one is ready; and then thy father could soon get it."

"Oh, Uncle Enos!" exclaimed Anne, "if there be a chance to send a letter could you not write for me? It may be when I can write there will be no chance to send a letter."

Captain Enos nodded. "You are a wise child," he said. "My writing isn't the plainest in the world, but I'll do my best. I have some sheets of good smooth paper in my sea-chest, and a good quill pen, too. Elder Haven fixed the pen for me from the feather of a wild goose I killed on the marshes last spring. But I do not think there is such a thing as ink in the house; but I can make a fair ink with the juice of the elderberry and a fair lot of soot from the chimney. So think up what you wish to tell your father, Anne, and if it storms to-morrow we'll write the letter."

"How will you send it, Uncle Enos?" asked Anne, forgetting to knit and turning eager eyes toward the captain.

"Sshh!" said Captain Enos. "'Tis a secret—hardly to be whispered. But there is a good-hearted sailorman on board the British ship. We have had some talk together on the shore, and he told me that he liked thy father; and that he did not blame him for escaping from the ship."

Anne nodded smilingly, and reached down and picked up her wooden doll.

"Has the sailorman any little girl?" she asked.

"That he has," said Captain Enos. "He told me that he had two small maids of his own in Plymouth, England, far across the ocean; and he asked if I knew aught of John Nelson's little girl."

"That's me!" said Anne, holding the wooden doll tight.

"Yes," said Captain Enos, "and he said that he might find a chance to send some word to thy father that you were a good and happy child. Then I told him, Anne, that you planned to write a letter, and he said he'd take it to Boston, and then 'twould soon reach thy father."

"I wish I could hear the sailorman speak of my father," said Anne, "and tell me of his little girls in England."

"Mayhap you can, child. He comes ashore after water each day. A stout man he is, with reddish hair and good honest blue eyes. He tells me his name is William Trull. If you see such a man you may speak to him."

"Uncle Enos! That is the sailorman who saved me from the Indian women, and brought me safe home," exclaimed Anne. "Do you not remember?"

"Indeed I do, Anne. And I thought the name would mean something to you," replied Captain Enos.

Anne smiled happily. It was good news to hear from the sailorman, and to know that he was a friend of her father's.

"What are you making, Uncle Enos?" asked Anne, as the captain put down one smooth bit of wood and picked up another.

Captain Enos pointed to Anne's wooden doll and whispered, "I'm afraid Martha Stoddard Nelson will hear. Put her down behind your chair and come over here, and I'll tell you."

Anne set the doll down carefully, with its head turned away from Captain Enos, and tiptoed across the little space between them.

"I'm making a chair for Martha Stoddard Nelson," whispered Captain Enos, "for a surprise. And you mustn't tell her a word about it till it is all ready for her to sit in."

Anne laughed. To have a secret with Uncle Enos was about the most delightful thing she could imagine; and to have it mean a fine cedar chair for her doll to sit in was the best kind of a secret.

"You mustn't let Martha Stoddard Nelson face toward me more than you can help," went on Uncle Enos. "You don't think she has noticed what I am doing, do you?"

"No," whispered Anne. "I'll be very careful, and let her stay up-stairs a good deal until the chair is finished."

"That will be a good plan," said Uncle Enos, "and there comes your Aunt Martha. I hear her at the door."

Anne ran to open the door and Mrs. Stoddard came in smiling and rosy from her walk in the sharp wind. The white kitten jumped up and came running toward her, and the good woman looked about the cheerful room as if she thought it the finest place in the world.

"I have more scarlet yarn," she said, sitting down near Captain Enos, "and I have a present for thee, Anne; something that Mistress Starkweather sent thee with her love," and Mrs. Stoddard handed Anne a small package.

"It's a box!" declared the little girl, taking off the paper in which it was wrapped, "and see how sweet it smells."

"'Tis of sandalwood," said Captain Enos. "There must be many such in the settlement, for 'twas but a few years ago that some of our men came back from a voyage to Ceylon, and fetched such boxes in their chests."

"Open it, Anne," said Mrs. Stoddard, and Anne carefully took off the cover.

"Look, look!" she exclaimed, holding out the box toward Aunt Martha; "what are these shining things; all pink and round?" and she picked up a string of pink coral beads and held them up.

"Coral beads!" said Aunt Martha. "Mistress Starkweather said that she thought when her husband brought them home she would keep them for a little girl of her own; but since she has but six boys, she says she knows of no little girl to whom she would rather give them than to thee, Anne. And you must go down to-morrow before school begins and thank her properly."

"Coral beads!" repeated Anne, holding up the pink beads and touching them softly. "May I put them around my neck, Aunt Martha?"

"Indeed you may, child. See, here is a clasp of bright gold to hold them," and Mrs. Stoddard fastened the beads around Anne's neck.

"'Tis a fine gift," said Captain Enos admiringly, "and shows a kind heart in Mistress Starkweather."

"I wish my father could see," said Anne. "When he knows about my scarlet stockings and leather shoes, and the white kitten, and that I go to school and have coral beads, he will think I am the luckiest girl in the world."

"We will write him all that," said Captain Enos.

Just then the wooden latch of the kitchen door rattled and the door swung open.

"It's Amanda!" exclaimed Anne, and Amanda Cary stepped inside and carefully closed the door behind her.

"See, Amanda!" exclaimed Anne happily, "I have had a fine present. Mistress Starkweather gave me these," and she touched the pink beads, "and this!" and she pointed to the sweet-smelling box of sandalwood.

Amanda's thin face brightened. "I've got some coral beads just like yours," she said; "my father got them 'way off across the ocean. When I grow older and times are better, my mother says I shall have a white dress and can wear my coral beads then."

The two little girls played with the doll and kitten and Captain Enos kept on with his work.

"I wish I had a doll," he heard Amanda say. "I have asked Amos to make me one, but he is not clever at whittling out things."

Captain Enos nodded to himself smilingly. Since Anne and Amos and Amanda had been carried down the harbor to House Point Island together, and he had heard how pleasant Amanda had been to Anne, he had liked the Cary children better, and had quite forgiven their old-time teasing ways. After Amanda had started for home he called Anne to him and said, "I have another secret!"

"Yes!" said Anne, with a gay little laugh.

"Would you like to make Amanda Cary a present?" he questioned.

"I could not give her my doll," answered Anne, her bright face growing sober. "'Tis all I have that my father made."

"But if I make another doll, a fine wooden doll, as near like yours as I can, would you like to give that to Amanda?" asked Uncle Enos.

"Oh, yes! Yes, indeed," said Anne, the smiles all coming back again.

"Then 'Tis a secret till I have the doll finished," said Captain Enos; "then maybe you can make a dress for it, and give it to Amanda, just as she gave you her white kitten."

Anne was very happy over this secret; it seemed even better than the new wooden chair for Martha Stoddard Nelson.

"I never gave anybody a present," she said, "but I know it must be the finest thing in the world to give somebody a gift," and she looked up into Uncle Enos's kindly face questioningly.

"You are a good child, Anne," he said, "and I will make the wooden doll as soon as time offers. Now take thy beads and box and Martha Stoddard Nelson to thy room, and I will bring in some wood for Aunt Martha. Then 'twill be time for a bite of supper."

Anne carried her treasures up-stairs to the little room. There was a stand in the room now, one that had belonged to her father. It had two drawers, and in one of them Anne carefully put the sandalwood box with the pink coral beads.

"I guess I have more lovely things than any little girl," she said to herself, as she slowly closed the drawer. "There's my doll, and my white kitten, and my scarlet stockings, which I shall have finished to-morrow, and my leather shoes, and these coral beads and the box!" But Anne gave a little sigh and then whispered, "And if my dear father could only know all about them, and that I am to give a doll to Amanda." She looked out of the small window toward the beautiful harbor, and wished that she might go sailing over it to Boston, to find her father and bring him safe to Province Town. "I wish King George knew how much trouble he was making with his old war-ships," Anne whispered to the wooden doll.



CHAPTER XII

AN UNEXPECTED JOURNEY

"I have a fine dish of ink all ready," said Captain Enos the next morning, "but 'Tis too clear a morning to sit in the house and write letters. There are good cod coming into the harbor, and I must row out and catch what I can while the weather is good."

"Can we not write the letter to-night?" asked Anne. "Aunt Martha has some fine pitch knots to burn that will make the kitchen light as day."

"We'll see, come night," replied Captain Enos.

The two were walking down the sandy path together,—Captain Enos bound for the shore, and Anne started for Mistress Starkweather's to thank her for the coral beads.

"Be a good child," said Captain Enos, as he turned from the path and left Anne to go on alone.

As the little girl came near the spring, she saw a man rolling a water cask toward it, and toward the shore she could see several other men, whom she knew came from the British ship. She looked closely at the man at the spring, and as she passed near him, noticed that his hair was red. He smiled and nodded as Anne went by, and then she saw that he had pleasant blue eyes, and she stopped and said: "Have you forgotten the little girl you saved from the Indians?"

"No, indeed!" replied the big man heartily; "and so you are John Nelson's little girl. And you are not afraid of a Britisher?"

"Oh, no!" said Anne, in surprise; "you have two little maids in England."

"That I have, safe with their mother. But I should like well to see their bright faces, and your father would like to see you, child. You do not forget him?"

"No," said Anne soberly. "We plan to write him a letter for you to take."

"Speak not so loud," cautioned the man; "the other sailors may hear. And get your letter ready soon, for, come a fair wind, we'll be off up the coast again to Boston Harbor."

"Do your little girls write you letters?" asked Anne.

The big man shook his head. "No, they are not yet taught to write," he said. "It may be I'll be sailing back come spring, and then I'll tell them about the little maid I saw in Province Town."

"Tell them my name is Anne," said she eagerly. "I wish I could go to Boston and find my father. I must hurry now, but I wish I knew the names of your little girls."

"They have good names," said the big man. "Each one is named for a grandmother. One is Betsey and the other Hannah."

"I'll remember," said Anne, and she said "Good-bye" and went quickly on toward Mrs. Starkweather's.

"I do wish I could go and find my father," she thought as she walked along. "I know he'd like to see me better than a letter. I wish I had asked William Trull to take me in the big ship. But maybe Aunt Martha would not wish me to ask him."

All day Anne thought about the letter that Captain Enos had promised to write for her; and when supper was over and the kitchen began to grow dusky with the shadows of the October evening, she ran out to the little shed and came tugging in a big root of pine.

"May I put this on the fire, Aunt Martha?" she asked, "that Uncle Enos may see to write?"

"Tis a pine knot," said Mrs. Stoddard. "We shall need many such for light and heat before the long winter goes. But put it on, child. 'Tis a good plan to write thy father."

The pine knot blazed up brightly, and Captain Enos drew the table near the open fire, and, with Anne perched on a high stool beside him, and Mrs. Stoddard busy with her knitting, while the white kitten purred happily from its comfortable place under her chair, the letter was begun. Word for word, just as Anne told him, Captain Enos wrote down about the stockings and shoes, the school and the kitten, the pink beads and William Trull, and at last Anne said: "That is all, only that I want to see him and that I love him well," and Captain Enos finished the letter, and Anne went up-stairs to bed.

"I have a plan to take a cargo of fish to Boston, Martha," said Captain Enos, as soon as Anne had gone. "The 'Somerset' will sail on the first fair wind. I can fill the sloop with good cod by the time she is out of gunshot; and I'll venture to say they will bring a good price in Boston Town."

"But how can you make safe landing there, Enos?" asked his wife anxiously.

"I'll manage," replied the captain smilingly, "and it may be I can get some news of Anne's father."

"'Twould be a brave cruise," said Mrs. Stoddard. "I should like well to go with thee, Enos."

Captain Enos laughed heartily. "And so would Anne, I dare say," he replied. "Maybe when spring comes and the British have been sent home I'll take you and Anne to Boston on a pleasure trip. If I get a good price for my fish, I'll bring you home a warm shawl, Martha."

"Mind not about me, Enos, but get some good wool cloth, if you see the chance, to make Anne a dress. She likes bright colors, and the Freemans will tell you where to purchase, and you may see some plaid or figured stuff that has good wearing in it. Three yards of good width will be a plenty."

"There's but little trading in Boston these days," replied Captain Enos; "there's a blight on the land, until we can make England give us fairer treatment. I do believe 'twill come to open war in Boston."

As they talked, Captain Enos was busy shaping the wooden doll which Anne was to give Amanda.

"I must finish this before I begin to plan for Boston," he said. "What did we do for pleasure, Martha, before Anne came to live with us? Why, we had not even a white kitten. And 'twas little enough I thought of whittling out dolls."

"Or I of knitting scarlet stockings," answered his wife. "Anne knits her stint each day, and will soon have hers done, but her second pair I am knitting for the child. November is close at hand, and then she must be warmly clad."

"Her leather shoes are ready," said Captain Enos, with a satisfied nod.

The next morning Captain Enos gave the letter to William Trull, who promised to find a chance of forwarding it to John Nelson.

"What think you, Anne?" said Mrs. Stoddard when the little girl came home from school that day. "The 'Somerset' is getting under way, and your Uncle Enos says 'Tis like enough that your father will have the letter before the week ends."

"I wish I could see him read it," said Anne.

"And your Uncle Enos has a bold plan, child. He is filling up his sloop with fine cod to take to the Boston market, and if this wind holds, he will go sailing up the coast to-morrow morning. Mayhap he'll be in Boston before the 'Somerset.'"

"But they will fire their big guns at him and sink the sloop!" said Anne fearfully.

"Your uncle will not give them a chance," answered Mrs. Stoddard. "He will put in and out among the islands and keep out of their sight."

"May I not go with him, Aunt Martha? I could see my father then."

Mrs. Stoddard shook her head. "'Twould not be wise, child. Your uncle would not wish it. There would be but little chance of finding your father. Your uncle plans to make but a short stay and get home as soon as may be. It is no time to be coasting about, with British ships ready to sink any craft they see. Here, see!" and she held something up in her hand.

"Oh, Amanda's doll!" exclaimed Anne, "and you have made a fine dress for her. Can I take it down now?" and the little girl took the wooden doll which Captain Enos had whittled out and looked at it admiringly.

"Yes, run along," replied Mrs. Stoddard; "'twill be a great surprise for Amanda."

Anne hurried down the hill and along the shore toward the Cary house, holding the doll carefully under the little shawl of gay plaid which Mrs. Stoddard had pinned about her shoulders. The sand no longer felt warm about her bare feet.

"I shall be wearing my new stockings and shoes soon," she thought, as her feet felt the cold dampness.

Amanda saw her coming and ran out to meet her, a white kitten close at her heels.

"See, the British ship is going!" exclaimed Amanda, and the two little girls turned and watched the big ship under full sail moving off across the harbor.

"Amanda," said Anne, "you know you gave me the nice white kitten?"

"Yes," replied Amanda; "has it run away?"

"Oh, no; it is just as contented as can be," said Anne; "only ever since you gave it to me I have wished I could give you something."

Amanda's face flushed and she dug her bare toes into the sand. She was remembering how unkind she and Amos had been to Anne, and was wishing that Anne would not thank her for the kitten.

"And now I have a present for you," went on Anne, taking the wooden doll from beneath the little plaid shawl.

"Your doll!" exclaimed Amanda in surprise.

Anne shook her head smilingly.

"No," she said, "your doll. See, it is new. And it is larger than mine. Take it," for Amanda's hands were behind her, as if she did not mean to take the gift.

"It's yours. Uncle Enos made it, and Aunt Martha made the dress," and Anne held the doll toward her friend.

Then Amanda's hands unclasped and reached forward eagerly.

"It's a fine doll," she said. "I do think, Anne, it is full handsomer than yours. Come, that I may show it to my mother. I shall name it for you, Anne. I have already named it. I shall call it Lovely Anne Nelson. Indeed I shall. I never had a gift before." And Amanda held the doll tight and smiled happily at Anne, as she reached out to draw her into the house that Mrs. Cary might see the doll.

When Anne started for home, Amanda walked along beside her for a little way. When they neared the spring she put her arm about Anne's neck and kissed her on the cheek.

"There!" she exclaimed; "now you know how dear you are. I was bad to you, Anne Nelson, right here at this very spring; and I set Amos on to tease you. And now you have given me a gift."

"But you gave me the kitten," answered Anne, "and I chased you away from the spring with sand and water."

"But now we like each other well," said Amanda. "You like me now, Anne?"

"Yes," replied the little girl; "I would not give you a gift if I did not like you well," and the two little girls smiled at each other happily and parted, Amanda to run home to her doll, while Anne went more slowly up the hill, thinking of the trip Uncle Enos was about to make and wishing that she could go with him.

"I could wear my scarlet stockings and new shoes for my father to see," she thought, "and I would be no trouble to Uncle Enos. There are two bunks in the sloop's cabin, and I would be company for him."

The more Anne thought about this cruise to Boston the more she longed to go. Captain Enos was late to his supper that night.

"I have a fine cargo of fish," he said, "and I shall go out on the morning tide, before you are awake, little maid," with a nod to Anne. "Next spring you and Aunt Martha shall go with me and see the fine town of Boston, with its shops and great houses. The British soldiers will be gone by that time, and it may be we will have our own government. There will be good days for us all then."

"I want to go now," said Anne, and Captain Enos laughed and shook his head.

"Run away to bed now, child," said Aunt Martha, as soon as the supper dishes were washed, "and take these stockings up-stairs with you. I toed off the last one while you were at Amanda Cary's."

So Anne said good-night, and Captain Enos gave her a good-bye kiss, telling her to take good care of her Aunt Martha while he was away, and went slowly up-stairs. But she did not undress and go to bed. She sat down on the little wooden stool, her mind full of a great resolve. She sat there quietly until she heard Captain Enos and Mrs. Stoddard go to bed. Then she moved softly to the little table under which stood her new shoes. Taking these and her scarlet stockings, she crept softly down the stairs. Crossing the kitchen gently, she slid back the bolt, and let herself out into the night.

There was a fresh wind from the southwest, and the little girl shivered a little as she ran toward the shore. The sloop was anchored some little distance from shore; Captain Enos would row out in his dory to her. As Anne reached the shore and looked out at the sloop she almost lost courage.

"I don't see how I can ever get out there without a boat," she exclaimed aloud.

"Out there?" the voice sounded close at her elbow, and Anne gave a jump and looked around.

"What do you want to get out to Captain Enos's boat for?" asked Jimmie Starkweather.

"Oh, Jimmie!" exclaimed the little girl, "what are you doing down on the shore in the night?"

"Night! Why, it's not much after dark," answered the boy. "Father has been out fishing all day, and I have just pulled the dory up, and was going home when I heard you. What do you want to go out to the sloop for?"

"Jimmie, my father is in Boston and I do want to see him," said Anne. "Captain Enos is going to sail early to-morrow morning for Boston, and I want to go out and sleep in the cabin to-night. Then I will keep as quiet as I can till he is nearly in Boston, and then I will tell him all about it, and he will take me to see my father."

Jimmie shook his head.

"Doesn't Captain Enos want you to go?" he asked.

"He says I may go next spring," answered Anne, "but if you row me out to the sloop, Jimmie, 'twould be no harm. You could tell Aunt Martha to-morrow, and I would soon be home. But 'Tis a long time since I saw my father. You see yours every day."

There was a little sob in Anne's throat and Jimmie wondered if she was going to cry. He hoped she wouldn't.

"Jump into the dory," he said. "I'll get a good lesson from my father, I'll warrant, for this; but jump in. And mind you tell Captain Enos that I told you to go home, but that you would not."

"Yes, Jimmie," said Anne, putting her shoes and stockings into the boat, and then climbing in herself. The boy sprang in after her, pushed off the dory, and in a short time had reached the sloop.

"Now go straight to the cabin and shut the door," cautioned Jimmie, and Anne obeyed, creeping into the top bunk and pulling a rough blanket over her.

She heard the sound of Jimmie's oars, as he pulled toward shore, felt the motion of the tide, as the big sloop rose and fell, and soon was asleep and dreaming that her father and William Trull were calling her a brave little maid.

Jimmie had many misgivings after he reached shore, and made up his mind to go straight to Captain Stoddard and tell him of Anne's plan. Then he remembered that Anne had trusted him with her secret. "I guess I'll have to let her go," he decided.



CHAPTER XIII

ANNE FINDS HER FATHER

It was just daybreak when Captain Enos, carrying a basket of provisions for his cruise, made his way to the shore and pushed off his dory.

"Not a soul stirring," he said, as he stepped aboard the sloop, fastened the dory, which he intended to tow, and then carried the basket of food to the little cabin.

As he pushed open the door Anne awoke, but she did not stir, and Captain Enos did not look in the direction of the upper bunk. She heard him hoisting the big mainsail, then came the rattle of the anchor chain, the sloop swung round, and Anne knew that at last she was really on her way to find her father.

"I must keep very still," she whispered to herself, "or Uncle Enos might 'bout ship and sail straight back to Province Town," so she did not move, though she wished very much that she might be out on deck with Captain Enos, feeling the salt breeze on her cheeks and enjoying the sail. She knew by the way the sloop tipped that they were going very fast. "Seems as if it was sailing right on its side," thought Anne; "if it tips much more I do believe I'll slide out of this berth."

"A fine wind, a fine wind!" Captain Enos said with a satisfied nod, as his boat went flying along; "I'll make Boston Harbor before nightfall at this rate, in time to get my fish ashore by dusk, if I can slide into a landing without the British stopping me. My cargo will be welcome," and Captain Enos smiled to himself as he thought of the praise he would get from his friends and acquaintance for his brave venture in such troublous times.

Toward noon Anne carefully let herself down from the bunk, and peered out through the door, which Captain Enos had left open. She could see the low sandy shores of Cape Cod, and here and there a white-sailed boat. "I guess we must be 'most to Boston," she thought; "the sun is way up in the middle of the sky, and I am so hungry." She came a little nearer to the cabin door and put her head out. "Uncle Enos!" she said softly.

But the captain was singing to keep himself company, and did not hear the faint voice. His head was turned a little away from Anne, but just as she was about to call again his song came to an end and he turned his glance ahead.

"Bless my soul!" he exclaimed.

"It is I, Uncle Enos!" said Anne, stepping out of the cabin.

The captain was almost too surprised to speak. Anne clambered along the side of the sloop until she was close beside him, and reaching out took fast hold of his rough coat sleeve, and repeated:

"It is I, Uncle Enos."

"Where on earth did you come from?" he exclaimed.

Anne pointed toward the cabin.

"How did you get there?" questioned Captain Enos. "Weren't you abed and asleep when I left the house this morning?"

"No, Uncle Enos," said Anne, creeping a little closer; "I slept in the top bunk in the sloop."

"Well, this is a nice affair. I can't take you back now. I'll make Boston Harbor before dusk with this wind. But how came you in the sloop?"

"Jimmie Starkweather rowed me out last night after you were sound asleep. And he is going to tell Aunt Martha all about it this morning. He told me to tell you that he didn't want me to go aboard, but that I would," said Anne.

Captain Enos's face was very sober, but he did not say any harsh word.

"What did you hide in the sloop for, child?" he asked.

"To go to Boston with you, Uncle Enos, and find my father," said Anne.

Then the captain's face grew even more sober.

"Then you do not like living with us?" he said; "but I thought you seemed happy, Anne. Your Aunt Martha will miss you, child. But if your heart is so set on being with your father I must do my best to find him for you. How a soldier can manage to care for a small girl like you is more than I can tell," and the captain sighed.

"I brought my scarlet stockings and new shoes to show him," said Anne.

Captain Enos nodded.

"And I can tell him about my kitten and the coral beads, and about going to school."

"Did you not bring the coral beads?" asked the captain.

Anne shook her head.

"Oh, no," she answered. "I heard you tell Aunt Martha that you would be away but a day or two, and I thought I could tell my father about the beads."

"Then you mean to go home with me?" asked the captain, a little smile creeping about his mouth.

"Why, yes," said Anne. "I do but want to see my father and tell him all the pleasant things that have befallen me."

"Well, well," said Captain Enos, "now I must scold you, Anne. Your Aunt Martha will not be pleased at this."

"But you are not angry?" asked Anne. "I do see little wrinkles about your eyes that mean you will soon smile. And it is long since I have seen my father."

"We must make the best of it now," said the captain, "but I do blame the Starkweather boy for setting you out to the sloop. He should have sent you straight home, and let me know of your plan."

Anne looked at Captain Enos in surprise.

"Jimmie could not help my coming," she said. "I should have found some way to get to the sloop. And he would not tell a secret."

"So you did not mean to run away from us?" said Captain Enos. "I am glad of that, but how I will manage with you in Boston I know not, nor if I can find your father."

Captain Enos's sloop ran safely in among the islands, sailed across Boston Harbor without being noticed, and made fast at a wharf well known to Captain Enos, and where he was welcomed by an old acquaintance. Before dusk he had sold his cargo of fish at a good price, and Anne, wearing her scarlet stockings and new shoes, and holding fast to the captain's hand, walked with him up the street to the house of the man who had been at the wharf when the sloop came in.

"They are good people, born in Wellfleet," said the captain to Anne, as they walked along, "and I shall ask them to keep you over night. I shall sleep in the sloop, and to-morrow we will find out all we can about your father."

The Freemans, for that was the name of Captain Enos's friends, gave Anne a warm welcome Their house seemed very large and grand to the little girl. There was a carpet on the sitting-room floor, the first Anne had ever seen, and pictures on the walls, and a high mantel with tall brass candlesticks.

The room in which she slept seemed very wonderful to Anne. The bed was so high that she had to step up from a footstool to get in it, and then down, down she went in billows of feathers. In the morning one of the Freeman girls came in to waken her. She was a girl of about fifteen, with pretty, light, curling hair and blue eyes. She smiled pleasantly at Anne, and told her that there was a basin of warm water for her to bathe her face and hands in.

"I will brush out your hair for you, if you wish," she said kindly.

But Anne said she could brush her own hair. Rose Freeman waited till Anne was quite ready for breakfast and went down the broad flight of stairs with her. Anne watched her new friend admiringly.

"She looks just like her name, just like a rose," she said to herself, and resolved that she would remember and walk just as Rose did, and try and speak in the same pleasant way.

Before breakfast was finished Captain Enos came up from the wharves. He smiled as he looked at Anne's bright face and smooth hair, and nodded approvingly. Then he and Mr. Freeman began to talk about the soldiers, and the best way to find John Nelson.

"Come, Rose," said Mr. Freeman; "the captain and I will walk up near King's Chapel and see what we can find out, and you and the little maid can come with us."

Rose went up-stairs and came down wearing a little brown jacket and a hat of brown silk with a green feather on it. In her hands she brought a blue cape and a blue hat with a broad ribbon bow.

"Mother says you are to wear these," she said to Anne, with a little smile; "'Tis a cape and hat that I wore when I was a little girl, and I would like to have you wear them."

"I never wore a hat before," said Anne.

"It is very becoming," said Rose, and the little party started out.

Mr. Freeman stopped here and there to ask questions, and Anne, holding fast to Rose Freeman's hand, looked wonderingly at the houses and the people. They went into a shop, and Captain Enos bought a fine warm brown shawl to take home to Mrs. Stoddard, and asked Rose Freeman to help Anne select a pretty stuff for a dress. The girls decided upon a small plaid of dark blue and brown, and the stuff was carefully wrapped up and Captain Enos took the package.

"I have news at last," said Mr. Freeman, who had been talking with a man at the door of the shop. "We will walk up to the Common and see if we cannot get sight of your father. He was here yesterday."

Anne listened eagerly, almost forgetting Rose Freeman, whose hand she still held tightly, in the thought that her dear father might be very near and that she would soon see him.

They walked toward the Common, and Mr. Freeman told the others to stand near the big elm while he went to make inquiries. He was gone but a few moments, when Rose Freeman felt Anne's hand slip from her own, and saw the little girl running swiftly across the grass calling out, "Father! Father!"

John Nelson heard the voice and stopped.

"Anne, Anne!" he answered, and in a moment the little girl in scarlet stockings and blue cape and hat was gathered into the close clasp of the dark, slender man.

Then how much there was to say! How eagerly Anne told him all the pleasant news! How warmly Captain Enos shook his hand, and called him a brave fellow; and John Nelson tried to thank the captain for all his kindness to Anne.

Anne held fast to his hand as they walked together to the wharf where the sloop lay. Captain Enos said that he must start for home the next morning, and there was a great deal for them all to talk about. Rose Freeman and her father left them at the wharf, after Captain Enos had promised that he would bring Anne to their house in time for supper.

"I have a plan, John," said Captain Enos; "when we have settled with the British, and that must be soon now, you must come to Province Town and live with us. How would you like that, Anne?"

Anne smiled happily.

"Best of anything!" she declared.

"I need help with my fishing," went on Captain Enos, "and there's an empty loft next to Anne's room, where you can sleep. So think of Anne's home as yours, John. You'd not break Mistress Stoddard's heart by taking away the child?"

"It was good fortune led her to your door," said John Nelson gratefully. "I can see for myself that she is content and happy. And I'll be a fortunate man to come into your house, Enos Stoddard."

"How soon will you come, father?" asked Anne, hopefully.

"I think 'twill not be longer than another spring before the British leave us in peace," replied her father. "But we need more soldiers to let them know we are ready for war."

Captain Enos nodded. "There's a half dozen good Province Town men ready to come, and as many more from Truro, if a dozen would help," he found a chance to whisper.

"We'll talk of this later," said Anne's father. "I only hope you'll get safe back to Province Town harbor from this trip."

"No fear," laughed Captain Enos. "General Gage is doing his best to starve Boston out. Maybe we Province Town men can do the cause of Liberty good service if we can bring in loads of fish for the people."

"It's hard to have British troops quartered on us," replied Nelson. "General Gage is taking rough measures with everybody who opposes him. Dr. Joseph Warren tried to stop the fortifications on Boston Neck, but 'twas no use. And word is being sent to settlements to be ready to furnish men. We've got supplies in Concord, and Americans have been drilling for some time. We'll be ready for war if war comes. I've a message for the Newburyport men to be ready to join us, but I see no way of getting out of Boston. You're a brave man, Captain Stoddard, to come into harbor."

Captain Enos's face brightened as he listened to John Nelson.

"I'd find no trouble in slipping down the coast to Newburyport," he said eagerly.

"Maybe," responded Nelson, "tho' there's no need for my telling you that there's British craft cruising all about, and a man caught with a message to 'rebels,' as they call us, stands no chance."

"I'd keep my message to myself," answered Captain Enos.

"So you could, a message by word of mouth; but this is written, and has a drawing as well. I have it under the lining of my coat. But there's no way for me to get out of the town. I'm well known by many of the English."

"Let me take it." Captain Stoddard's voice was eager. "'Tis ill-luck that we Province Town men are to have no part in this affair. I'll get the paper safe to Newburyport. Tell me to whom I am to give it."

But John Nelson shook his head. "You'd be caught, and maybe sent to England," he answered.

"I'll not be caught. And if they catch me they'd not find the papers," he promised, and before they parted Nelson had agreed to deliver the package that day. "I'll give it to Anne," he promised. "It will not do for me to meet you again. There are too many eyes about. Let Anne walk along, with that tall girl yonder, about sunset toward the South Meeting House, and I'll give it to her."

Captain Stoddard nodded, and walked away.

"Anne," he said when they met in the Freemans' sitting-room just before dinner, "you can be of great help to your father and to me. But you must be wise and silent. When you walk with Rose this afternoon your father will meet you and hand you a flat package. Thrust it inside your frock, and say nothing of it to Rose, or to any one, and bring it safe to me."

"Yes, indeed, Uncle Enos," the little girl answered. "Am I to ask Rose to walk with me?"

"Yes, toward the South Meeting House," answered Captain Enos, "about an hour before sunset."

"If I keep silent and bring the package safely, will you forgive me for hiding in the boat?" pleaded Anne.

"Indeed I will, child, and take you for a brave girl as well," he replied.

Anne was joyful at the thought of another word from her father, and Rose was quite ready to go for another walk.

They had just turned into King Street when John Nelson met them. Anne wore the pretty cape Rose had given her and her father slipped the packet into her hand without Rose seeing it. She grasped it tightly, and held it under the cape. "Be a good child, Anne, and do whatever Captain Stoddard may bid thee," her father said as he bade her good-bye.



CHAPTER XIV

A CANDY PARTY

The next morning proved warm and pleasant with only a light breeze, but Captain Enos had his sloop ready at an early hour, and when Anne, with Mr. Freeman and Rose, came down to the wharf he was anxious to start at once.

Anne still wore the blue cape, which Mrs. Freeman had insisted on giving her, and the hat was in a round pasteboard box, which Anne carried carefully, and which was put away in the cabin with Aunt Martha's new shawl and the cloth for Anne's new dress.

As the sloop sailed away from the wharf Anne waved her hand to Rose Freeman until she could no longer see her. Captain Enos watched the little girl anxiously; he was half afraid that Anne might be disappointed because she could not stay with her father, but her face was bright and smiling.

"Where is the packet your father handed you?" Captain Enos questioned eagerly, as soon as his sloop was clear of the wharf.

"I have it pinned safe inside my frock," she answered. "Shall I give it to you now, Uncle Enos?"

"Maybe 'Tis safer with you, Anne," replied the captain. "It may be that some British boat will overhaul us, and question us. I'm doing an errand, Anne, for your father. If this boat is taken and I am made a prisoner, you are to say that you want to go to Newburyport. That and no more. Mayhap they'll set you ashore there. Then make your way to Squire Coffin's house as best you may. Give him the packet. Tell him the story, and he'll find a way to reach your father. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Uncle Enos," said Anne very soberly.

"Repeat what I have told you, that I may be sure," said Captain Enos, and Anne obeyed.

"But I do not want to be set ashore in a strange place," she said soberly. "How should I get back to Province Town?"

"You will be taken care of, never fear," responded Captain Enos, "and you'll be doing a good service to the cause of liberty, Anne, if you carry the papers safely. Your Aunt Martha will indeed be proud of you. Remember what I have told you. But I hope to slip in behind Plum Island and make a landing without being seen. The wind is favoring us. You have had a fine visit, Anne?"

"Yes, indeed!" agreed the little girl, "and I have a present for Aunt Martha," she said, as the sloop ran out among the islands. "See, my father gave me this for her," and she held up a gold coin. "Will she not be pleased?"

"But she will be better pleased to have you safe home again," said Captain Enos. "What do you think Amanda Cary will say when she hears of your voyage to Boston and of all the fine things you have seen there? 'Tis not many of the children in Province Town have ever taken such a journey."

"She will think it a better voyage than the one we took to House Point Island," answered Anne. "I have something for Amanda, too. Rose Freeman gave me a package of barley sugar, and I said to myself I would take it home to Amanda."

Captain Enos kept a watchful eye for suspicious looking craft. But his course lay well inshore, and he was apparently not noticed by any of the vessels. Before noon he was cruising along the Ipswich shore, and made his landing at Newburyport without having been spoken.

"The worst part of the business is before us," he said to Anne, as he made the boat fast. "If I leave the boat here, I may come back and find no trace of her, but leave her I must, or Squire Coffin will wait in vain for the papers."

"But I can carry them," said Anne. "Tell me where to go, and I'll come straight back and say no word of my errand."

"'Tis the best possible way. Did I not say that you were a wise child!" declared Captain Enos, his face beaming with delight. "Put on your pretty hat and cape, and follow that lane up to the main road. Then ask for Squire Coffin's house of the first person you meet."

In a few moments Anne was ready to start. As she walked up the lane Captain Enos's eyes followed her anxiously. "I can see no danger in it for the child," he said aloud, and then, sailor fashion, set about putting his boat in order.

"'twill be a cold night, but the cabin will be snug and warm," he thought. "I'll get out of here before sunset and maybe make Province Town by daybreak."

Anne walked up the pleasant lane. Her feet sank deep in the leaves from the overarching trees, and made a cheerful, crackling sound. She could see the roofs of houses not far away, and as she turned from the lane into a road she met two girls not much larger than herself. They looked at her curiously, and when Anne stopped they smiled in a friendly way.

"Would you please to tell me where I can find Squire Coffin?" Anne asked, feeling very brave and a little important.

"Squire Coffin is my uncle," the larger of the two girls replied. "I'm going there now."

"I have an errand," Anne explained.

"Oh!" responded both the little girls, but Anne could see that they wondered who this strange little girl could be, and what her errand was.

"You may come with us if you want to," Squire Coffin's niece said, and Anne was very glad to walk with these silent little girls, for neither of them spoke again until they stopped in front of a tall, square white house very near the street. As Anne looked up at it she thought that she had never seen so many windows before in one house. "That's Uncle Coffin on the porch," explained his niece.

"Thank you," said Anne, and as the two little girls politely curtseyed she endeavored to imitate them, and with apparent success. Then she went up the stone steps toward the dignified looking gentleman who stood in the doorway.

She held the packet under her cape, and as she came near him she whispered, as Captain Enos had told her to do, "This is from Boston."

"Great George!" he exclaimed grabbing the package, in what seemed a very rude manner to Anne, and putting it quickly in his pocket, "and how came you by it?"

But Anne remembered her promise to keep quiet, and she also remembered that the squire's niece had made the queer little curtsey on saying good-bye. So Anne bobbed very prettily to the squire, and said "good-bye," and ran down the steps, leaving the squire standing amazed. It was many weeks before he learned the name of the little maid, and that her home was in Province Town.



It was an easy matter to find her way back to the lane. There was an orchard just at the corner of the road, and a man was gathering apples. "Want an apple?" he called.

"Yes, sir," answered Anne, and now, being rather proud of her new accomplishment, she curtseyed very politely.

"Well, well, you are a young lady, miss. Come up to the fence and I'll hand you the apples." Anne obeyed, and the good-natured man gave her two big red-cheeked apples. They seemed very wonderful to the little girl from the sandy shore village, where apples were not often to be seen, and she thanked him delightedly.

Captain Enos was watching for her, and as soon as she was on board he swung the sloop clear of the wharf, ran up his mainsail and headed toward the outer channel. As they looked back at the little wharf they saw a tall man come running down the lane.

"I reckon that's the squire," chuckled Captain Enos.

"Yes, it is," said Anne.

"Well, now for Province Town. I guess we've helped a little bit, Anne. At least you have."

Anne was eating one of the big red apples, and thinking about Squire Coffin's big house and small niece.

"We'll tell Aunt Martha all that's happened," went on Captain Enos, "but do not speak to any one else of it, Anne. 'Twould make trouble for your father and for me if our trip to Newburyport was known."

"I'll not speak of it," Anne promised.

"It has been a good trip," said Captain Enos. "Mr. Freeman paid me well for the fish. I have a keg of molasses in the cabin, which will be welcome news for Martha."

As they came into harbor at sunrise next morning and Captain Enos dropped anchor and lowered the big mainsail, Anne looked eagerly toward the shore. She could see Jimmie Starkweather and his father watching them. After Captain Enos had lowered the keg of molasses into the dory, and put in the box that held Anne's hat, and the other packages, he helped Anne over the side of the sloop to a seat in the bow of the dory.

As soon as the boat touched the shore Jimmie and his father ran down to help draw it up on the beach. Jimmie looked at Captain Enos as if he half expected a scolding, but as soon as Captain Enos landed he patted the boy's shoulder kindly, and said:

"The little maid has told me all about it. You were not greatly to blame, Jimmie. And the trip turned out all right."

"I saw my father," said Anne, and then ran away toward home, leaving Captain Enos to tell of the visit to Boston.

Aunt Martha had seen the sloop come to anchor, and was waiting at the door to welcome Anne.

"Uncle Enos and I have a secret with my father," Anne whispered to Mrs. Stoddard, "and we have been to Newburyport." And then the story of the wonderful trip was told, and Anne showed Mrs. Stoddard how she had curtseyed to the squire.

"Well! Well!" exclaimed the good woman in amazement. "It does seem as if you had all sorts of adventures, Anne. To think of Enos undertaking such a thing. I'm proud of you both. 'twill be a fine story to tell your grandchildren, Anne. How you carried news from Boston patriots to Newburyport. But do not speak of it till we are through with all these troublous days." And again Anne promised to keep silent.

"To think you should run off like that, child," continued Aunt Martha. "When Jimmie Starkweather came up and told me you were gone I could scarce believe him till I had climbed the stairs to the loft and found no trace of you. But I am right glad you wore your shoes and stockings. Where did the blue cape come from?"

By this time they were in the kitchen, and Anne had put down the box that held her hat.

"Mrs. Freeman gave it to me," she replied, "and see! I have a new hat!" and she opened the box and took out the pretty hat.

"I thought thy uncle would take thee straight to Mistress Freeman," said Mrs. Stoddard.

"And we found my father," went on Anne happily, "and he sent thee this," and she drew the gold piece from her pocket and gave it to Mrs. Stoddard.

"Well, well," said Aunt Martha, "'Tis a fine piece of money, and your father is kind to send it. I will use it well."

"And Uncle Enos has fetched you a fine shawl and a keg of molasses," said Anne. "You do not think there was great harm in my hiding in the sloop, Aunt Martha?" The little girl's face was so troubled that Aunt Martha gave her another kiss, and said:

"It has turned out well, but thee must never do so again. Suppose a great storm had come up and swept the sloop from her moorings that night?"

"Rose Freeman looks just like a rose," said Anne, feeling quite sure that Aunt Martha was not displeased; "and she walks so softly that you can hardly hear her, and she speaks softly, too. I am going to walk and speak just as she does."

"That is right," agreed Mrs. Stoddard. "I am sure that she is a well-spoken girl."

When Captain Enos came up the hill toward home Anne had already put her blue cape and hat carefully away, and was sitting near the fire with the white kitten curled up in her lap.

"The Freemans do not eat in their kitchen," said Anne, as they sat down to supper; "they eat in a square room with a shining floor, and where there is a high mantel-shelf with china images."

"'Tis a fine house," agreed Captain Enos, "well built of brick. 'twas a great thing for Anne to see it."

"'Tis not so pleasant a house as this," said Anne. "I could not see the harbor from any window, and the shore is not smooth and sandy like the shores of our harbor."

Captain Enos smiled and nodded.

"That's right, Anne," he said; "Boston houses may do for town people, but we sailor-folk like our own best."

"Yes, indeed!" replied Anne, "and I do not believe a beach-plum grows on their shore. And nothing I tasted there was so good as Aunt Martha's meal bread."

The next morning Anne started for school, wearing the new shoes and scarlet stockings and the little plaid shawl. The children were all anxious to hear about what she saw in Boston, and she told them of the soldiers on the Common, and of the shops, and of the houses made of brick and stone, and she showed Amanda how to make the wonderful curtsey. But Elder Haven soon called them to take their seats, and it was not until the noon recess that she found a chance to speak alone with Amanda.

The two little girls sat down on the front door-step of Elder Haven's house, and Anne told of the wonderful sail to Boston, and had just begun to describe Rose Freeman when the teacher's voice was heard calling them in.

As soon as school closed for the day, Amanda said that she could walk home with Anne and see the new cape and hat, and hear more about Rose Freeman.

"Would you like better to live in Boston than here?" asked Amanda, as they walked along.

Anne looked at her in surprise.

"Why, Amanda!" she said; "of course I wouldn't. It is not seemly there to go out-of-doors without a hat; and Rose Freeman said that she had never been barefooted in her life. She has fine white stockings knit of cotton yarn for summer, and low shiny shoes that she called 'slippers.'"

"'Twould be hard to wear shoes all the year," agreed Amanda, looking down at her own stout leather shoes, "but I like them well now."

"I brought you a present from Boston," said Anne just as they reached the Stoddards' door. "Rose Freeman gave it to me, and I saved it for you."

"Well, Amanda," said Mrs. Stoddard, as the two girls came into the kitchen, "are you not glad to have Anne safe home again? 'twas quite a journey to take."

"She likes Province Town better than Boston," answered Amanda smilingly.

"To be sure she does, and why not?" replied Mrs. Stoddard. "There are few places where there is so much salt water to be seen as here, and no better place for fishing. Now, Anne, I have a little surprise for you. I have asked Mr. and Mrs. Starkweather and their six boys to come up this evening, and your father and mother, Amanda, and you and Amos. The evenings are getting fine and long now and we must begin to be neighborly."

"Then I mustn't stay long now," said Amanda; "it will be pleasant to come up here again in the evening."

Amanda tried on Anne's blue cape and hat, looked admiringly at Mrs. Stoddard's shining gold piece and brown shawl, and then Anne handed her the package of barley sugar.

"I will keep it," said Amanda, gratefully; "'twould seem ungrateful to eat a present."

Mrs. Stoddard nodded. "Keep it until Sunday, Amanda," she said, "but then it will be well to eat a part of it."

"But can she not taste it now?" asked Anne. "I am sure it is good. It came out of a big glass jar in a shop."

"I see I must tell you two little girls a secret," said Mrs. Stoddard, "but Amanda must not tell Amos."

"No, indeed," said Amanda quickly.

"It is about this evening," said Mrs. Stoddard; "I am going to make a fine dish of molasses candy!"

"Oh, Aunt Martha!" "Oh, Mistress Stoddard!" exclaimed the little girls together.

"It has been years since I tasted any myself," went on Mrs. Stoddard, "but I remember well how it is made; and I do not believe one of you children has ever tasted it."

"My mother has told us about it," said Amanda, "and said that when times were better she would make us some."

"We all need cheering up," said Mrs. Stoddard, "and I am glad I can give you children a treat to remember. Now, Amanda, you see why it will be best not to eat your barley sugar until Sunday."

"I have good times every day since I gave you the white kitten," said Amanda, as she bade Anne good-bye, and started for home.

"We must bring all our chairs into the kitchen to-night, Anne," said Aunt Martha, as soon as supper was finished, "for even then I doubt if there be seats enough for our company."

"I had best bring in my long bench from the shed," said Captain Enos; "'twill be just the thing to put a row of Starkweather boys on."

"The youngest is but two years old," said Mrs. Stoddard; "'Tis like he will find our bed a good resting place."

Mr. and Mrs. Cary with Amos and Amanda were the first to arrive, and as they came in Captain Enos put two big pieces of pitch pine on the fire. In a moment it blazed up making the kitchen as light as day.

The Starkweathers, climbing up the sandy hill, saw the bright light shining through the windows of the little house, and Mrs. Starkweather exclaimed:

"Does it not look cheerful? To think of us all coming to a merrymaking! It was surely a kind thought of Mistress Stoddard's."

"Shall we play games?" asked Daniel, the boy next younger than Jimmie.

"It may be," answered his mother, "and you boys must be quiet and not rough in your play. Remember there is a little girl in the house."

The youngest Starkweather boy, carried carefully by his father, was sound asleep when they reached the Stoddards', and was put comfortably down on Mrs. Stoddard's big bed, while the others gathered around the fire.

"Sit you here, boys," directed Captain Enos, pointing to the long bench, "and you girls can bring your stools beside me. I have a fine game for you to play. Do you see this shining brass button? 'twas given me in Boston, and came from the coat of a British soldier. Now we will play 'Button' with it," and the captain, with a few whispered words to Jimmie Starkweather, slid the shining button into his hand, and "Button, button! who's got the button?" was soon being laughingly asked from one to another as the brass button went from Jimmie to Amos, passed into Anne's hand and swiftly on to Amanda, and back to Jimmie before Captain Enos could locate it.

"Look!" exclaimed one of the younger Starkweather boys. "Mistress Stoddard is pouring syrup into a kettle!"

"Yes, my boy," said Captain Enos laughingly, "and now you will all be glad that I had a good trip to Boston, for I brought home a keg of fine molasses, and now you will have some first-class candy!"

There were many exclamations of surprise and pleasure, even the older members of the party declaring that it would indeed be a fine treat; and Mrs. Starkweather said that it reminded her of the times when she was a little girl like Anne, and her mother made candy for her.

The molasses boiled and bubbled in the big kettle hung over the fire, and Mrs. Stoddard and Mrs. Cary took turns in stirring it. The children brought dippers of cold water for spoonfuls of the hot molasses to be dropped in to see if it had begun to candy; and when Amanda lifted a stringy bit from her tin cup and held it up for Mrs. Stoddard to see, it was decided that it was cooked enough, and the kettle was lifted from the fire and the steaming, fragrant mass turned into carefully buttered pans.

"We must set these out-of-doors to cool," said Mrs. Stoddard; so Jimmie, Amos and Daniel were each entrusted with a pan to carry out on the broad step.

"When it is cool we will all work it," said Mrs. Stoddard; "that means pull and twist it into sticks."

It did not take long for the candy to cool, and then under Mrs. Stoddard's directions each child was given a piece to work into shape. But the candy proved too tempting to work over, and in a few minutes the long bench was filled with a row of boys, each one happily chewing away upon a clumsy piece of molasses candy.



CHAPTER XV

A SPRING PICNIC

Before the six weeks of school came to an end Anne could read, and could write well enough to begin a letter to her father, although there seemed no chance of sending it. She thought often of her visit to Newburyport, and wondered if she would ever see Squire Coffin's little niece again. And she remembered William Trull, and his little daughters of whom he had told her. But no news had come to Province Town of how Boston was faring.

A few weeks after Captain Enos's trip to Boston another Province Town fisherman had started out with a cargo of fish, hoping for equal good fortune. But weeks passed and he did not return, and no tidings were heard of him, and his family and neighbors now feared that the British had captured his boat and taken him prisoner.

No word came to Anne from her father, and as the ice formed along the shore and over the brooks, the cold winds came sweeping in from sea with now and then a fall of snow that whitened the marshes and the woods, the little settlement on the end of Cape Cod was entirely shut off from news from Boston, and they knew not what the British were doing.

Captain Enos and the men of the port went fishing in the harbor, and the women and children kept snug at home in the little houses.

Captain Enos had finished the cedar chair for Anne's doll, and Amos had made one as near like it as possible for Amanda's "Lovely Anne." Both the little girls could now knit nearly as smoothly as Mrs. Stoddard herself, and almost every day Amanda came up to Mrs. Stoddard's, for she and Anne were reading "Pilgrim's Progress" together. Now and then Mrs. Stoddard would read several pages aloud of the adventures of Christian, while the two little girls knit. Anne had a warm hood of gray and scarlet yarn which she had knit herself, and mittens to match, so that she could go to church on Sundays, and run down to Mrs. Starkweather's or to see Amanda without being chilled by the cold.

It was a mild day late in February when Jimmie Starkweather brought home a pink blossom from the woods.

"See, mother! The first Mayflower," he exclaimed. "I found it half under the snow. Does it not smell sweet?"

"It does indeed, son," replied Mrs. Starkweather; "bring me your grandmother's pink china cup from the cupboard, fill it with cool water, and we will put the blossom on the table for thy father to see. Spring is indeed close at hand."

On the same day that Jimmie found the arbutus bloom, Captain Enos came in from fishing with news to tell. A Boston schooner outward bound had come near to where he was fishing, and in response to his hail and call of "What news?" had answered that a battle was now expected at any day between the British and Americans.

"If it be so," said Captain Enos, "'twill not be long before the British ships will be homeward bound, and they'll not stop to trouble us much on their way."

"We must keep a lookout for them," said Captain Starkweather. "I wish we could get more news. 'Tis like enough all will be settled before we know aught of it."

All through March, with its high winds and heavy rains the people watched the harbor for a sight of the big white-winged ships, knowing that if the English ships were homeward bound it would mean that the Americans had won, and that the colonies would be free from paying the heavy taxes which England had fixed upon them, and that they could go about their work in peace and quiet.

April brought warm, sunny days, and Anne no longer wore the knit hood and mittens, and had once more set her playhouse under the pine trees in order, and now Amanda with her doll often came to play with her.

"'Tis nearly a year ago since my father was captured by the British," said Anne one day as she and Amanda, followed by the white kitten, went out under the pine trees.

"Anne!" exclaimed Amanda, "I did not know what 'spy' and 'traitor' meant when I called those words at you."

Anne looked at her playmate smilingly. "You would not say them now, Amanda, would you?" she answered.

"Say them now!" repeated Amanda. "Why, Anne, you are my best friend, and your father a soldier. 'twas but yesterday my father said that there was but one thing that Province Town had to be proud of in this war, and that was John Nelson, your father, because he is the only soldier from the settlement."

Anne's cheeks flushed happily. "'twas hard not to have my father," she said, "but he may come back any day now; Uncle Enos says so. And he is to live with us, and help Uncle Enos with the fishing. And then, Amanda, I shall be the happiest little girl in the settlement."

"To-morrow my mother is going to the marshes to gather young pine tips, and arrowroot, and young spruce tips and the roots of thoroughwort to brew beer with," said Amanda; "Amos and I are to go with her, and if your Aunt Martha be willing you can go with us. She plans to take something to eat and be away till past noon."

"I am sure I may go," replied Anne eagerly, "and we can bring home Mayflowers. There are many all along near the pine trees."

"Yes," said Amanda, "and will it not be fine to eat our dinner out-of-doors? Amos plans to start a fire and cook a fish for us, over it, this time, not under sand as he did when we were on the island."

Mrs. Stoddard gave her consent for Anne to go next day with the Carys. "I will bake you a molasses cake to carry," she said; "if it were a few weeks later you could call it a May party. In England, and I know it is now a custom in many of our towns, all the children gather and put flowers on their heads, and have a May-pole wreathed with flowers, and dance around it. And they choose a little girl for Queen of the May."