A Little Maid of Old Maine Part 8

Away went the two little girls, Melvina's long braids dancing about, and her starched skirts blown back as she raced along; and, greatly to Anna's surprise, Melvina pa.s.sed her and was first at the shop.

"I beat! I beat!" exclaimed Melvina, her dark eyes s.h.i.+ning and her face flushed with the unwonted exercise.

"You do everything best," Anna declared generously, "but I did not know that you could run so fast."

"Neither did I," Melvina acknowledged laughingly. Anna felt a little puzzled by this sudden change in Melvina, which was far more noticeable than Anna's own effort to give up her boyish ways and become a quiet, sedate little girl. For ever since the few hours of freedom on the sh.o.r.e, on the day of the tempest, Melvina had endeavored to be as much like Anna as possible. She ran, instead of walking slowly, whenever she was out of her mother's sight. She had even neglected her lessons to go out-of-doors and watch a family of young robins one morning, and had been immediately called in by her surprised mother. In fact, Melvina had tried in every way to do things that she imagined Anna liked to do. She had even besought her mother to cut off her hair; but, as she dared not give her reason for such a wish, Mrs. Lyon had reproved her sharply, saying that it was a great misfortune for a little girl not to have smoothly braided hair, or long curls. So while Anna endeavored to cover her pretty curly hair, to behave sedately, and give up many of her outdoor games, in order to be like Melvina, Melvina was wis.h.i.+ng that she could be exactly like Anna; and as they stood looking at each other at the end of their race each little girl noticed a change in the other which she could not understand, and they started off toward Luretta's home at a more sober pace.

"Here they are," said Anna, as they came to the corner of the shed and saw the rabbits looking out at them between the slats of the box.

Melvina kneeled down close to the box and exclaimed admiringly as Trit and Trot scurried away to the farthest corner.

"I do wish I could touch one! Would it not be fun to dress them up like dolls!" she said. "If they were mine I would dress them up in bonnets and skirts, and teach them to bow. Oh, Anna! Can't we take one out? One of them is yours, Luretta said so; let us take out your rabbit, Anna."

"But we haven't anything to dress it up in," said Anna, beginning to think that Melvina was a good deal like other little girls after all.

"Could we not take your rabbit over to my house, Anna? My mother has gone to Mrs. Burnham's to spend the day, and we could take Trot up to my room and dress her up and play games. Do, Anna!" urged Melvina.

"It would be great sport indeed," agreed Anna eagerly; "we could call Trot by some fine name, like Queen Elizabeth, and have your dolls for visitors."

"Yes, yes, we could! Or play Trot was a lion that we had captured in Africa. Where is the door to the box, Anna?" and Melvina's dark eyes shone more brightly than ever as Anna slid back the little door that Paul had so carefully made, and, after several vain efforts, finally secured one of the rabbits and quickly wrapped it in the skirt of her dress.

"Shut the door, Melvina! Quick! or the other will run out," she said, but although Melvina hastened to obey she was only just in time to catch the second rabbit in her hands; an instant later and it would have scampered away free.

"Put your skirt around it. Hurry, and let's run. Mrs. Foster is coming,"

whispered Anna, and the two little girls ran swiftly behind the shed, holding the trembling frightened rabbits, and then across the fields toward Mr. Lyon's house. Not until they reached the back door of the parsonage did either of them remember Luretta, and then it was Anna who exclaimed:

"But what will Luretta think when she comes home and does not find us, and sees the empty box?"

"She won't go home for a long time; we will be back and the rabbits safe in their box by that time," declared Melvina. "We will go up the back stairs, Anna; and we need not be quiet, for London has gone fis.h.i.+ng. We will have a fine time! Oh, Anna, I am so glad you stopped me that day when we went wading, for now we are friends," she continued, leading the way up-stairs.

"But I was horrid, Melvina," Anna said, recalling her efforts to make Melvina appear silly and ignorant so that Luretta would scorn her.

"No, indeed, you were not," responded Melvina. "When we played on the sh.o.r.e you made me laugh and run. I never played like that before."

"Well, I think you are real good," said Anna humbly, as she followed Melvina into a pleasant sunny chamber. "Most girls would have been angry when their fine clothes were spoiled; and you were punished too, and I was not;" and Anna looked at Melvina admiringly, thinking to herself that she would do anything that Melvina could ask to make up to her for that undeserved punishment.

"You will have to hold both the rabbits while I get my dolls," said Melvina; and Anna's attention was fully occupied in keeping the two little creatures safe and quiet in the folds of her skirt, which she held together bag fas.h.i.+on, while Melvina drew a large box from the closet and took out three fine dolls.

Anna gazed at the dolls admiringly. Each one wore a gown of blue silk, and little s.h.i.+rred bonnets to match. Melvina explained that they, the dolls, all wanted to dress just alike.

"We will put these on Trit and Trot," she said, drawing out two white skirts from her collection of doll clothes. "And see these little white bonnets!" and she held up two tiny round bonnets of white muslin; "these will be just the thing."

The rabbits submitted to being dressed. Both the girls were very gentle with them, and gradually the little creatures grew less frightened.

Neither Anna nor Melvina had ever had such delightful playthings before.

The rabbits were Queen Elizabeth and Lady Was.h.i.+ngton, and the dolls came to bow low before them. The time pa.s.sed very rapidly, and not until London was seen coming toward the house to prepare the noonday meal did the little girls give another thought to Luretta. Melvina, glancing from the window, saw London coming up the path with his basket of fish. She was holding Lady Was.h.i.+ngton, and for a second her clasp was less firm, and that was enough. With a leap the rabbit was through the open window, the white skirt fluttering about it. Anna, starting up in surprise, let go Queen Elizabeth, who followed Lady Was.h.i.+ngton through the window so closely that it was small wonder that London dropped his basket of fish and ran back a few steps with a loud cry. After a few scrambling leaps the rabbits disappeared, and London, trembling with fright, for he believed that the strange leaping creatures dressed in white must be some sort of evil witches, picked up his basket, and shaking his head and muttering to himself, came slowly toward the house.

"And there comes my father, and Luretta is with him," exclaimed Melvina.

"What shall we do, Anna? And what will Luretta say when we tell her about the rabbits? Come, we must be at the front door when they get here, or my father will fear I am lost."

Mr. Lyon smiled as he saw his little girl standing in the doorway, and his troubled look vanished. But Luretta looked flushed and angry. All the morning she had been sitting on the log waiting for Mr. Lyon, and when he came at last she had hurried home only to find that her mother had not seen either of the girls, and Luretta had run after Mr. Lyon to tell him this, and accompanied him to the door.

"I will walk home with Luretta," Anna said with unusual meekness.

Melvina watched them go, a little frightened at the end of the morning's fun. She did not know what they could say to Luretta to explain their mischief. At that moment London came into the front entry.

"I'se seen strange sights this mornin', ma.s.sa!" he said, rolling his eyes. "I'se seen white witches flyin' out ob dis house."

"London! Do not talk of such wickedness," said Mr. Lyon sharply. "Even your little mistress is amused at such absurd talk," for Melvina, knowing what London had seen, was laughing heartily. But London, shaking his head solemnly, went back to the kitchen, sure that he had seen a strange and awful sight, and resolved to speak to Mr. Lyon again of the matter.

"Well, Danna Weston! You can't have one of my rabbits now, after treating me this way," said Luretta. "And I am not going to walk home with you, either," and she ran swiftly ahead.

Anna did not hurry after her, as Luretta hoped and expected. She began to feel very unhappy. Trit and Trot were gone, and who could tell but the skirts and bonnets might not strangle them? Then, suddenly, she remembered that Rebecca was at home ill, and that she had entirely forgotten her, and the young checkerberry leaves she had intended picking for her sister. She put the thought that it was all Melvina's fault out of her mind. Even if it were, had not she, Anna, led Melvina into a more serious trouble on the day of the tempest? She resolved that she would take all the blame of the lost rabbits, that Melvina should not even be questioned about them if she could help it. But it was a very sober little girl who went up the path toward home.

CHAPTER IX

REBECCA'S VISIT

Before Anna reached home Rebecca had decided that she must see Lucia Horton as soon as possible; for she began to fear that Lucia in some way might betray their secret; but Rebecca knew that her mother would not consent to her going out until she appeared more like her usual self than she had at breakfast time. So she brushed her hair neatly, bathed her 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 as well 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 as quickly before. Well, I must take time and go to the swamp for a good supply 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, dear child," responded Mrs. Weston, taking Rebecca's sunbonnet from its peg behind the door and tying the strings under Rebby's round chin.

"When the _Polly_ comes into harbor you will have the gold beads from your Grandmother Weston, in Boston; but how Danna guessed it is more than 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 more disturbed by Rebecca's sudden illness than she wished to acknowledge.

"I wish indeed that the _Polly_ and _Unity_ would come; perchance it is the lack of proper food that ails the children: too much Indian meal, and no sweets or rice or dried fruits," she thought anxiously. "And to think 'tis England, our own kinsfolk, who can so forget that we learned what justice and loyalty mean from England herself," she said aloud, as she returned to her household duties. For Mrs. Weston, like so many of the American colonists, had been born in an English village, and knew that the trouble between England and her American colonies was caused by the injustice of England's king, and his refusal to listen to wise advisers.

Lucia Horton's home lay in an opposite direction from the blacksmith shop. It stood very near the sh.o.r.e, and from its upper windows there was a good view of the harbor. It had no yard or garden in front, as did so many of the simple houses of the settlement, and the front door opened directly on the rough road which led along the sh.o.r.e.

Rebecca rapped on the door a little timidly, and when Mrs. Horton opened it and said smilingly: "Why, here is the very girl I have been wanting to see. Come right in, Rebecca Flora," she was rather startled.

"Lucia is not very well," Mrs. Horton continued, "and she has been saying that she must, _must_ see Rebecca Flora; so it is most fortunate that you have arrived. Some great secret, I suppose," and Mrs. Horton smiled 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 called from the stairway. "Oh, Rebecca, come right up-stairs," called Lucia, and Mrs. Horton nodded her approval. "Yes, run along. 'Twill do Lucia good to see you. I cannot imagine what ails her to-day. I saw one of the O'Brien boys pa.s.sing just now, and he tells me their liberty tree has been found and brought to sh.o.r.e!"

"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 drift out to sea," she added in a lower tone.

Rebecca went up-stairs so slowly that Lucia called twice before her friend entered the chamber where Lucia, bolstered up in bed, and with flushed cheeks and looking very much as Rebby herself had looked an hour earlier, was waiting for her.