CHAPTER II
ANNE WINS A FRIEND
"Come, Anne," called Mrs. Stoddard at so early an hour the next morningthat the June sun was just showing itself above the eastern horizon.
"Yes, Mistress Stoddard," answered the little girl promptly, and in a fewminutes she came down the steep stairs from the loft.
"It is early to call you, child," said the good woman kindly, "but thecaptain has made an early start for the fishing grounds, and I liked notto leave you alone in the house in these troublous times; and so eat yourporridge and we'll go and milk Brownie."
Anne hastened to obey; and in a few moments the two were making their wayup the slope through the fragrant bayberry bushes, and breathing in thesweet morning air. No one else seemed astir in the little settlement. Nowand then a flutter of some wild bird would betray that they had steppednear some low-nesting bird; and the air was full of the morning songs andchirrupings of robins, red-winged blackbirds, song sparrows, and of manysea-loving birds which built their nests among the sand-hills, but foundtheir food upon the shore.
Anne noticed all these things as they walked along, but her thoughts werechiefly occupied with other things. There was one question she longed toask Mrs. Stoddard, yet almost feared to ask. As they reached the summit ofthe hill and turned for a look at the beautiful harbor she gained courageand spoke:
"Mistress Stoddard, will you please to tell me what a 'spy' is?"
"A spy? and why do you wish to know, Anne?" responded her friend; "who hasbeen talking to you of spies?"
"Is it an ill-seeming word?" questioned the child anxiously. "The Carychildren did call it after me yesterday when I went to the spring."
"Did they that!" exclaimed Mrs. Stoddard angrily, "and what reply did youmake, Anne?"
The little girl shook her head. "I said nothing. I knew not what theymight mean. Does it mean an orphan child, Mistress Stoddard?" and thelittle girl lifted her dark eyes appealingly.
"I will tell you its meaning, Anne, and then you will see that it hasnaught to do with little girls. A 'spy' is like this: Suppose some oneshould wish to know if I kept my house in order, and what I gave thecaptain for dinner, and could not find out, and so she came to you andsaid, 'Anne Nelson, if you will tell me about the Stoddard household, andopen the door that I may come in and see for myself, I will give thee ashilling and a packet of sweets'; then, if you should agree to thebargain, then you could be called a spy."
"But I would not do such a thing!" declared Anne, a little flash ofresentment in her dark eyes. "Do the Cary children think me like that? Iwill throw water on them when next we meet at the spring--aye, and sand."
"Nay, Anne," reproved Mrs. Stoddard, but she was not ill-pleased at thechild's spirit. "Then you would be as bad as they. It does not matter whatthey may say; that is neither here nor there. If you be an honest-thinkingchild and do well they cannot work harm against you."
As they talked they had walked on and now heard a low "Moo!" from behind abunch of wild cherry trees.
"There's Brownie!" exclaimed Anne, "but I do wish she would not 'moo' likethat, Mistress Stoddard. The British might hear her if they come up thisfar from shore."
"'Tis only to remind me that it is time she was milked," said Mrs.Stoddard. "You can play about here, child, till I have finished."
Anne did not wander far. There was something else she wished to know, andwhen the bucket was filled with foamy, fragrant milk, of which Mrs.Stoddard bade the child drink, she said:
"'Tis near a month since my father went. The Cary children also calledafter me that my father was a 'traitor'; is that an ill-seeming word?"
"The little oafs!" exclaimed Mrs. Stoddard, "and what else did they say?"
"'Twill not make you dislike me, Mistress Stoddard?" questioned the child."I honestly do not know why they should so beset me. But they called me'beggar' as well, whatever that may be; though I'm sure I am not it, if itbe an ill-seeming word."
Mrs. Stoddard had set down her milking-pail; Brownie was quietly feedingnear by; there was no one to see, and she put her arm about the littlegirl and drew her near. It was the first outward show of tenderness thatshe had made toward the child, and as Anne felt the kindly pressure of herarm and looked up into the tender eyes her own face brightened.
"We'll sit here for a bit and rest, child," said Mrs. Stoddard, "and besure I think only well of you. Thou art a dear child, and I will not haveaught harm thee or make thee unhappy."
Anne drew a long breath, and snuggled closely to her good friend's side. Agreat load was lifted from her sad little heart, for since she had come toProvince Town she could remember but few kindly words, and to haveMistress Stoddard treat her with such loving kindness was happinessindeed. For a moment she forgot the taunts of the Cary children, and satsilent and smiling, her head resting against Mrs. Stoddard's shoulder.There was a peaceful little silence between the two, and then Anne spoke.
"I would wish to know what 'traitor' might mean, Mistress Stoddard?"
"Very like to 'spy,'" answered Mrs. Stoddard. "The children meant thatyour father had told the British that they could find good harbor andprovisions here. That, like a spy, he had opened the door of a friend'shouse for silver."
Anne sprang from the arm that had encircled her, her cheeks flushed andher eyes blazing. "Now!" she declared, "I _will_ throw water upon themwhen I go to the spring! All that the bucket will hold I will splash uponthem," and she made a fierce movement as if casting buckets full of wrathupon her enemies, "and sand!" she continued; "while they are wet with thewater I will throw sand upon them. 'Tis worse to say things of my fatherthan of me."
"Come here, child," said Mrs. Stoddard; "we will not let words like theCary children speak trouble us. And you will remember, Anne, that I shallbe ill-pleased if I hear of water-throwing at the spring. Come, now, we'llbe going toward home."
Anne made no response, but walked quietly on beside her companion. Whenthey reached the hilltop they paused again before going down the slopetoward home.
"Look, Anne! Are not the fishing-boats all at anchor? What means it thatthe men are not about their fishing? We'd best hurry."
Captain Enos met them at the door. He gave Anne no word of greeting, butsaid to his wife, "The British tell us to keep ashore. They'll have nofishing. They know full well how easy 'tis for a good sloop to carry newsup the harbor. They are well posted as to how such things are done."
"But what can we do if we cannot fish?" exclaimed Mrs. Stoddard. "'Tiswell known that this sandy point is no place for gardens. We can scarceraise vegetables enough to know what they mean. And as for corn and wheat,every grain of them worth counting has to be bought from the othersettlements and paid for in fish. If we do not fish how shall we eat?"
The captain shook his head. "Go about your play, child," he said, turningtoward Anne, and the little girl walked slowly away toward a bunch ofscrubby pine trees near which she had established a playhouse. She hadbuilt a cupboard of smooth chips, and here were gathered the shells shehad brought from the beach, a wooden doll which her father had made her,and the pieces of a broken earthenware plate.
She took the doll from its narrow shelf and regarded it closely. Herfather had made it with no small skill. Its round head was covered withcurls carved in the soft wood; its eyes were colored with paint, and itsmouth was red. The body was more clumsily made, but the arms and legs hadjoints, and the doll could sit up as erect as its small mistress. It woreone garment made of blue and white checked cotton. It was the only toyAnne Nelson had ever possessed, and it had seemed more her own because shehad kept it in the little playhouse under the pines.
"Now, you can go up to the house and live with me," she said happily, "andnow you shall have a truly name. You shall be Martha Nelson now. I know myfather would want you to be called Martha, if he knew that Mrs. Stoddardput her arm around me and called me a 'dear child,'" and Anne smiled atthe remembrance.
She did not speak of her father before the Stoddards, but she could nothave explai
ned the reason for her silence. She had wondered much abouthim, and often watched the harbor yearningly, thinking that after all theold sloop might come sailing back, bringing the slender, silent man whohad always smiled upon her, and praised her, and had told her that someday she should have a Maltese kitten, and a garden with blossoming treesand smooth paths. Anne did not forget him, and now as she regarded herwooden doll a great longing for a sight of his dear face made her forgeteverything, and she leaned her head against a little pine and criedsilently. But as she cried the remembrance of the taunts of the Carychildren came into her thoughts, and she dried her eyes.
"'Tis near the hour when they go to the spring," she said, laying the dollcarefully back in its former resting place. "I will but walk that way thatthey may not think me afraid of their ill-seeming words," and with herdark head more erect than usual, Anne made her way down the path, herbrown feet sinking ankle-deep in the warm sand at every step.
The Cary children, a boy and a girl, both somewhat Anne's seniors, werealready filling their buckets at the spring. Jimmie Starkweather wasthere, and a number of younger children ran shouting up and down thelittle stream which flowed from the spring across the road.
As Anne came near, Jimmie Starkweather called out: "Oh, Anne Nelson! TheIndians from Truro are camping at Shankpainter's Pond. I've been overthere, near enough to see them at work, this morning. My father saysthey'll be gone as soon as they see the British vessels. We'll not havetime to buy moccasins if they go so quickly."
Anne's eyes rested for a moment upon Jimmie, but she did not speak. Shecould hear the Carys whispering as they dipped their buckets in thespring, and as she came nearer, their voices rose loudly: "Daughter of aspy! Beggar-child! Beggar-child!"
But their taunts vanished in splutterings and pleas for mercy; for attheir first word Anne had sprung upon them like a young tiger. She hadwrenched the bucket of water from the astonished boy and flung it in hisface with such energy that he had toppled over backward, soused andwhimpering; then she had turned upon his sister, sending handful afterhandful of sand into the face of that astonished child, until she fledfrom her, wailing for mercy.
But Anne pursued her relentlessly, and Captain Enos Stoddard, making hismournful way toward the shore, could hardly believe his own senses when helooked upon the scene--the Cary boy prostrate and humble, while hissister, pursued by Anne, prayed for Anne to stop the deluge of sand thatseemed to fill the air about her.
"I'll not be called ill-seeming names!" shrieked Anne. "If thou sayest'traitor' or 'spy' to me again I will do worse things to you!"
Captain Stoddard stood still for a moment. Then a slow smile crept overhis weather-beaten face. "Anne!" he called, and at the sound of his voicethe child stopped instantly. "Come here," he said, and she approachedslowly with hanging head. "Give me your hand, child," he said kindly, andthe little girl slipped her slender fingers into the big rough hand.
"So, Jimmie Starkweather, you'll stand by and see my little girl put upon,will you!" he exclaimed angrily. "I thought better than that of yourfather's son, to stand by and let a small girl be taunted with what shecannot help. It speaks ill for you."
"I had no time, sir," answered the boy sulkily; "she was upon them both ina second," and Jimmie's face brightened; "it was fine, sir, the way shesent yon lubber over," and he pointed a scornful finger toward the Caryboy, who was now slinking after his sister.
"Here, you Cary boy!" called the captain, "come back here and heed what Isay to you. If I know of your opening your mouth with such talk again tomy girl here," and he nodded toward Anne, "I'll deal with you myself. Solook out for yourself."
"I'll see he keeps a civil tongue, sir," volunteered Jimmie, and CaptainEnos nodded approvingly.
"Now, Anne, we'd best step up home," said the captain. "I expect MistressStoddard will not be pleased at this."
Anne clung close to the big hand but said no word.
"I am not angry, child," went on the captain. "I like your spirit. I donot believe in being put upon."
"But Mistress Stoddard told me I was not to throw water and sand,"responded Anne, "and I forgot her commands. I fear she will not like menow," and remorseful tears dropped over the flushed little cheeks.
"There, there! Do not cry, Anne," comforted the captain; "I will tell herall about it. She will not blame you. You are my little girl now, andthose Cary oafs will not dare open their mouths to plague you."
Mrs. Stoddard, looking toward the shore, could hardly credit what shesaw--the captain, who but yesterday had declared that Anne should not stayunder his roof, leading the child tenderly and smiling upon her!
"Heaven be thanked!" she murmured. "Enos has come to his senses. There'llbe no more trouble about Anne staying."