A Little Maid of Old Maine, Alice Turner Curtis [e book reader pdf .txt] 📗
- Author: Alice Turner Curtis
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An hour or two dragged slowly by; Anna was very tired. She held Trit close, and sat down not far from the river’s edge. “Father will find me some way,” she said to herself over and over, and tried not to let thoughts of fear and loneliness find a place in her mind. The little wild rabbit was no longer afraid of its captor, and Anna was sure that it was sorry it had led her into such trouble. But now and then tears came to the little girl’s eyes, when suddenly she heard a voice from the river just above the curve singing a familiar air:149
To courage to be free,
Success to fair America,
Success to Liberty.”
“Oh! That is Paul! That is Paul!” cried Anna, jumping up and down with joy; and the next moment a canoe swung round the curve, paddled by a tall boy with a cap ornamented by tall feathers.
Paul nearly dropped his paddle as he saw Anna at the river’s edge.
“However did you get here?” he exclaimed, as with a swift stroke of his paddle he sent his canoe to shore.
Anna told him quickly of the capture of Trit, the leaking boat, and her jump to safety, while Paul listened with astonished eyes, and, in his turn, told of the discovery of the honey-tree, and then of the search for Anna.
“Your father and Rebby are sadly frightened,” he concluded; “they are well on the way home now, thinking possibly you might have followed the path. Now, get in the canoe, and I’ll try my best to get you home by the time they reach the settlement.”
Anna sat in the bottom of the canoe, and Paul150 skilfully wielded the paddle, sending the little craft swiftly down the river.
“That bucket is full of honey,” he said, nodding toward the bow of the canoe. But Anna was not greatly interested in the honey; she had even forgotten that she was hungry and thirsty. She could think only of her father and Rebby searching along the path for some trace of her.
It was late in the afternoon when the canoe swept across the river to the same landing where Paul had fastened the liberty tree earlier in the month. And in a few moments Anna was running up the path toward home, followed by Paul with the bucket of honey.
“Why, child! Where are Father and Rebby? and where is your cap?” questioned Mrs. Weston.
“Oh, Mother!” began Anna, but now the tears could not be kept back, and held close in her mother’s arms she sobbed out the story of the capture of Trit, and all that had followed. And then Paul told the story of the honey-tree, and his story was not finished when Anna exclaimed: “Father! Rebby!” and ran toward the door.
How Mr. Weston’s face brightened when he saw Danna safe and sound, and how closely151 Rebby held her little sister, as Anna again told the story of her journey down the river.
When Paul started for home Mrs. Weston insisted that a generous portion of the bucket of honey should go with him; and Trit, safely fastened in a small basket, was sent to Luretta as a gift from Anna. He promised to be ready the next morning to return to the falls with Mr. Weston in the canoe to bring home the store of honey.
As the Westons gathered about the table for their evening meal they looked at each other with happy faces.
“I couldn’t feel happier if the Polly were in port, and America triumphant over her enemies,” declared Mr. Weston, as he helped Anna to a liberal portion of honey.
Paul and Mr. Weston started off at an early hour the next morning in Paul’s canoe to bring home the honey. Beside a tub they took with them a number of buckets, for the old stump had a rich store of honey.
It was a time of leisure for the lumbering settlement. The drives of logs had all come down the river and were safely in the booms. The mills could not run as usual, for the conflict with England made it difficult to send lumber to Boston. The crops were now planted, so Mr. Weston, like other men of the settlement, had time for hunting and fishing or for improving their simple homes. Some of the men passed a good part of each day lounging around the shores and wharves, looking anxiously down the harbor hoping to see Captain Jones’ sloops returning with the greatly needed provisions.
Rebecca was up in season to see her father153 start, but Anna, tired from the adventure of the previous day, had not awakened.
“Is the liberty tree safe?” Rebby asked a little anxiously, as she helped her mother about the household work that morning.
“Why, Rebby dear, what harm could befall it?” questioned her mother. “The traitor who set it afloat will not dare cut it down. ’Tis a strange thing that, search though they may, no trace can be found of the rascals.”
Rebecca’s hands trembled, and she dared not look up. It seemed to the little girl that if her mother should look into her eyes she would at once know that she, Rebecca Flora Weston, who had been born in Boston, and whose parents were loyal Americans, had committed the dreadful deed. She wished with all her heart that she could tell her mother all that Lucia Horton had said; but the promise bound her. She could never tell anyone. Rebecca knew that she could never be happy again. “Not unless I could do some fine thing to help America,” she thought, a little hopelessly; for what could a little girl, in a settlement far away from all the strife, do to help the great cause for which unselfish men were sacrificing everything?154
Mrs. Weston was troubled about Rebecca. “The child has not really been well since her birthday,” she thought, “although I cannot think what the trouble can be.”
“Your father says that the honey is really yours, Rebby dear,” continued Mrs. Weston, “and that you may decide how it shall be disposed of.”
“I don’t care,” Rebby responded, a little faintly. “Only, of course, Paul ought to have half, because he helped.”
“Yes, of course; but even then your share will be a good quantity,” said Mrs. Weston. Before Rebecca could speak Anna came running into the room, her brown eyes shining, and her curls, now long enough to dance about her face, falling over her brown cheeks.
As she ate her porridge her mother questioned her about the adventure of the previous day, and for a time Rebby forgot her own worries in listening to Anna’s account of her journey in the leaking boat, and of her leap to safety.
“It was not mischief, was it, Mother, to try and capture Trit?” she concluded.
“No, indeed, dear child. Who could foresee such an adventure?” replied Mrs. Weston.155 “And we are all proud that you did so well; that you did not wander into the forest, where you would surely have been lost. I was just asking Rebby what use we would make of the honey. Of course we want to share it with our neighbors. ’Tis rare good fortune to have such a store of sweets.”
“Let’s have a honey party,” suggested Anna. “Could we not, Mother?”
“Why, that is a splendid idea!” declared Mrs. Weston. “’Twill cheer up the whole settlement to be asked to a party. To be sure I can offer them only honey; but perhaps ’twill take their minds from the Polly, and from England’s injustice toward us. Rebecca, you and Anna shall start out at once and ask the neighbors as far as Mr. Lyon’s house. That will bring as many as twenty people. And tell each one to bring a cup and spoon, as I have no extra dishes.”
As soon as Anna had finished her breakfast the two girls put on their sunbonnets and started on their pleasant errand. The neighbors were to be asked to come the next afternoon for a taste of wild honey, and Mrs. Weston again cautioned them to be sure and speak of the cup and spoon that each guest was to bring.156
“I wish I could offer them a dish of tea,” thought Mrs. Weston, and then reproached herself for the thought, for was not the tea tax one of England’s sins against the colonies, and had not loyal women refused to brew a single cup until America gained her rights?
Mr. Foster was busy in his blacksmith shop. The mill men could be idle, but Worden Foster hammered busily away day in and day out. His hay-forks were always in demand, and he made many stout locks and keys, as well as door-latches and hooks.
“Shall we ask him first?” questioned Anna.
“Yes,” replied Rebecca. “He is our best neighbor, so ’tis right to ask him first.”
Rebecca and Anna stood in the open doorway for a moment watching the glow of the forge and the bright sparks that sprang from the red bar of iron which Mr. Foster was shaping into a spearhead.
He nodded toward his little visitors smilingly, and listened with evident pleasure to Rebecca’s invitation.
“But you tell me Paul is to have a good portion of the honey; ’tis hardly fair we Fosters should come,” he replied, and then added157 quickly, “But why not let us have the neighbors, and divide the honey that is left after the party?”
“Why, yes, sir; I think that will be a good plan,” responded Rebby soberly, “and perhaps Luretta will go with us to ask the neighbors.”
Mr. Foster nodded again, whistling softly to himself, and as the little girls bade him a polite “Good-morning” and went on toward his house they could hear his whistle ring above the sound of his hammer.
Luretta came running to meet them.
“I was just coming to your house to thank you for Trit. Oh, Anna! You are the bravest girl in the settlement. Paul says you are. And to think you caught the rabbit for me.” Luretta, quite out of breath, with her arm across Anna’s shoulders, looked admiringly at her friend.
“It’s only fair,” Anna replied, “because I lost yours.” And then Anna had to tell again the story of her capture of Trit. Luretta listened eagerly. “I do wish I could have been with you, Danna,” she said. But Anna shook her head. “The boat would have sunk,” she responded soberly.
Mrs. Foster thought the plan for a honey party an excellent idea, and promised to come in158 good season; and Luretta was greatly pleased to go with her friends to invite the neighbors.
“Will not Lucia Horton be pleased when we tell her about the honey?” said Anna.
Rebecca stopped suddenly. “We are not to ask the Hortons,” she announced.
“Not ask Lucia! Why not?” questioned Anna, while Luretta looked at Rebby with wondering eyes.
“No,” Rebecca declared firmly. “The Hortons have a cupboard filled with jellies, and candied fruits, and jars of syrups, and fine things from the West Indies and from far places, and ’tis not fair. We have only the wild bees’ honey, a taste for each neighbor.” Rebecca stopped with a little sigh. She had not thought about not asking Lucia until Anna spoke, but now she realized that, if she could help it, she would never again go to the Hortons’ house. Rebecca was old enough to realize the difference between loyalty and selfish indecision, and she was sure that the Hortons were thinking more of their own comfort than of the good of America.
“But Lucia is your best friend,” said Anna; “she gave you those beautiful silk mitts on your birthday.”159
Rebecca’s face colored. She made no answer. The silk mitts, she resolved, must be given back. Probably she would never have another pair; but never mind, if she gave up Lucia’s friendship she must give up the mitts.
For a few minutes the little girls walked on in silence, but Luretta was eager to talk about Trit, and very soon she and Anna were talking happily of plans to teach the captured rabbit, and were no longer troubled by Rebecca’s decision not to ask the Hortons to the honey party. If they thought of it at all it was to agree with Rebby: that people with a cupboard full of dainties, when their neighbors had only the coarsest fare, ought not to be asked to share the wild honey.
Mrs. Lyon welcomed the little girls in a most friendly manner,
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