CHAPTER IX
REBECCA'S VISIT
Before Anna reached home Rebecca had decided that she must see LuciaHorton as soon as possible; for she began to fear that Lucia in some waymight betray their secret; but Rebecca knew that her mother would notconsent to her going out until she appeared more like her usual selfthan she had at breakfast time. So she brushed her hair neatly, bathedher face, and just before Anna's return home, came into the kitchen.
"My head does not ache at all, Mother," she announced, "and I feel aswell as ever."
Mrs. Weston looked at Rebby in astonishment. "I declare!" she exclaimed,"if thoroughwort tea doesn't beat all! But I never knew it to act asquickly before. Well, I must take time and go to the swamp for a goodsupply of it before this month goes. 'Tis best when gathered in May."
"May I not walk over and see Lucia?" Rebby asked a little fearfully,wondering what she could do if her mother refused.
"Why, yes; it will very likely do you good. But walk slowly, dearchild," responded Mrs. Weston, taking Rebecca's sunbonnet from its pegbehind the door and tying the strings under Rebby's round chin.
"When the _Polly_ comes into harbor you will have the gold beads fromyour Grandmother Weston, in Boston; but how Danna guessed it is morethan I can imagine," she said, and Rebecca started down the path. Mrs.Weston stood for a moment in the doorway looking after her. She was moredisturbed by Rebecca's sudden illness than she wished to acknowledge.
"I wish indeed that the _Polly_ and _Unity_ would come; perchance it isthe lack of proper food that ails the children: too much Indian meal,and no sweets or rice or dried fruits," she thought anxiously. "And tothink 'tis England, our own kinsfolk, who can so forget that we learnedwhat justice and loyalty mean from England herself," she said aloud, asshe returned to her household duties. For Mrs. Weston, like so many ofthe American colonists, had been born in an English village, and knewthat the trouble between England and her American colonies was causedby the injustice of England's king, and his refusal to listen to wiseadvisers.
Lucia Horton's home lay in an opposite direction from the blacksmithshop. It stood very near the shore, and from its upper windows there wasa good view of the harbor. It had no yard or garden in front, as did somany of the simple houses of the settlement, and the front door openeddirectly on the rough road which led along the shore.
Rebecca rapped on the door a little timidly, and when Mrs. Horton openedit and said smilingly: "Why, here is the very girl I have been wantingto see. Come right in, Rebecca Flora," she was rather startled.
"Lucia is not very well," Mrs. Horton continued, "and she has beensaying that she must, _must_ see Rebecca Flora; so it is most fortunatethat you have arrived. Some great secret, I suppose," and Mrs. Hortonsmiled pleasantly, little imagining how important the girls' secret was.Her two elder sons, boys of fifteen and seventeen, were on the _Polly_with their father, and she and Lucia were often alone.
Rebecca had but stepped into the house when she heard her name calledfrom the stairway. "Oh, Rebecca, come right up-stairs," called Lucia,and Mrs. Horton nodded her approval. "Yes, run along. 'Twill do Luciagood to see you. I cannot imagine what ails her to-day. I saw one of theO'Brien boys passing just now, and he tells me their liberty tree hasbeen found and brought to shore!"
"Oh!" exclaimed Rebecca in so surprised a tone that Mrs. Horton laughed."'Twould have been full as well if the tree had been allowed to driftout to sea," she added in a lower tone.
Rebecca went up-stairs so slowly that Lucia called twice before herfriend entered the chamber where Lucia, bolstered up in bed, and withflushed cheeks and looking very much as Rebby herself had looked an hourearlier, was waiting for her.
"Shut the door tightly," whispered Lucia, and Rebecca carefully obeyed,and then tiptoed toward the bed.
For a moment the two girls looked at each other, and then Luciawhispered: "What will become of us, Rebecca? Mr. O'Brien told Motherthat the men were determined to find out who pushed the liberty treeafloat, and that no mercy would be shown the guilty. That's just whathe said, Rebby, for I heard him," and Lucia began to cry.
"But the tree is found and brought back," said Rebecca, "and how cananyone ever find out that we did it? No one will know unless we tell;and you wouldn't tell, would you, Lucia?"
Lucia listened eagerly, and gradually Rebecca grew more courageous, anddeclared that she was not at all afraid; that is, if Lucia wouldsolemnly promise never to tell of their creeping down to the shore andcutting the rope that held the tree to the stake.
"Of course I never would tell," said Lucia, who was now out of bed anddressing as rapidly as possible. "I wasn't ill; but I stayed up-stairsbecause I was afraid you might tell," she confessed; and then Rebeccaowned that she had felt much the same. "But I had to take a big bowlfulof bitter thoroughwort tea," she added, making a little face at theremembrance.
"Well, you are a better medicine than thoroughwort tea," said Lucia; andMrs. Horton opened the door just in time to hear this.
"Why, it is indeed so," she said, looking in surprise at her littledaughter, who seemed quite as well as usual. "Your father has justpassed, Rebecca, and I asked his permission for you to stay to dinnerwith us, and he kindly agreed. I think now I must have a littlecelebration that Lucia has recovered so quickly," and with a smiling nodshe left the two girls.
"I know what that means," declared Lucia, for the moment forgetting thedanger of discovery. "It means that we shall have rice cooked withraisins, and perhaps guava jelly or sugared nuts."
Rebecca looked at her friend as if she could hardly believe her ownears; for the dainties that Lucia named so carelessly were seldomenjoyed in the remote settlement; and although Captain Horton took carethat his own pantry was well supplied it was not generally known amonghis neighbors how many luxuries his family enjoyed.
"Surely you are but making believe," said Rebecca.
"No, truly, Rebby; we will likely have all those things to-day, sinceMother said 'twould be a celebration; and I am glad indeed that you arehere. You do not have things like that at your house, do you?" saidLucia.
Rebecca could feel her cheeks flush, but she did not know why she feltangry at what Lucia had said. It was true that the Westons, like most oftheir neighbors, had only the plainest food, but she wished herself athome to share the corn bread and baked fish that would be her mother'snoonday meal. She was silent so long that Lucia looked at herquestioningly; and when Mrs. Horton called them to dinner they wentdown-stairs very quietly.
The table was set with plates of shining pewter. There was a loaf ofwhite bread, now but seldom seen in the settlement, and a fine omelet;and, even as Lucia had said, there was boiled rice with raisins in it,and guava jelly.
Rebecca was hungry, and here was a treat spread before her such, asLucia had truly said, she never had at home; but to Mrs. Horton'ssurprise and Lucia's dismay, Rebecca declared that she must go home; andtaking her sunbonnet, with some stammering words of excuse she hastenedaway.
"A very ill-bred child," declared Mrs. Horton, "and I shall be wellpleased if your father can take us away from this forsaken spot on hisnext trip."
Lucia sat puzzled and half frightened at Rebecca's sudden departure.Lucia did not for a moment imagine that anything she had said could havesent Rebecca flying from the house.
Mr. and Mrs. Weston and Anna were nearly through dinner when Rebeccaappeared, and Mrs. Weston declared herself well pleased that Rebby hadcome home; there were no questions asked, and it seemed to Rebby thatnothing had ever tasted better than the corn bread and the boiled fish;she had not a regretful thought for the Hortons' dainties.
Anna told the story of all that had occurred to her that morning; oftaking the rabbits to the parsonage, and of London's exclamation andterror at the "white witches," and last of all of Luretta's anger. "AndI didn't even tell Luretta that the rabbits were lost," concluded thelittle girl, and then, with a deep sigh, she added: "I suppose I willhave to go right
over and tell her."
"Yes," replied her mother gravely, "you must go at once. And you musttell Luretta how sorry you are for taking the rabbits from the box. Andfail not to say to Mrs. Foster that you are ashamed at not keeping yourpromise."
Mr. Weston did not speak, but Rebecca noticed that he seemed pleasedrather than vexed with his little daughter. "That's because Anna alwaystells everything," thought Rebecca. "But if I should tell what I didlast night he would think me too wicked to forgive," and at the thoughtshe put her head on the table and began to cry.
"Why, Rebby, dear! 'Tis my fault in letting you go out this morning,"exclaimed Mrs. Weston, now quite sure that Rebecca was really ill. Butin a few moments her tears ceased, and she was ready to help withwashing the dishes and setting the room in order.
"I will walk along with you, Danna," said her father, when Anna wasready to start on the unpleasant errand of owning her fault to Luretta,and they started out together, Anna holding fast to her father's hand.
"I wish I need not go, Father," Anna said as they walked along.
Mr. Weston's clasp on his little daughter's hand tightened. "Let me see;do you not remember the verse from the Bible that 'he who conquers hisown spirit is braver than he who taketh a city'?" he questioned gently.
Anna looked up at him wonderingly, and Mr. Weston continued: "It isyour courage in owning your fault that makes you a conqueror, and asbrave as a brave soldier."
"As brave as Washington?" asked Anna, and when her father smiled down ather she smiled back happily. Probably a little girl could not be asbrave as a great soldier, she thought, but if her father was pleased itwould not be so hard, after all, to tell Luretta about Trit and Trot.But Anna again firmly resolved that she would take all the blameherself; Melvina should not be blamed in any way for the loss of therabbits.