ANNE DECIDES
"I don't know what to do," Anne whispered to herself, with a little sob,
as she looked out of the narrow window in her little room. Captain
Stoddard was coming briskly up the path; in a moment he would be
directly under the window. "I'll call to him, and if he answers I shall
know that I am awake," she decided, and leaning out she called softly:
"Uncle Enos! Uncle Enos!"
Captain Stoddard looked up, and answered briskly: "Anne Nelson, ahoy!"
"Uncle Enos, listen!" and Anne leaned out still farther. "I went toward
the outer beach with Amanda Cary, and she slapped me and ran off. And
when I came home Aunt Martha sent me up-stairs. Now what have I done?"
Captain Stoddard chuckled, then he looked very serious indeed, and
replied:
"A pretty affair! What have you been doing?"
"Nothing, Uncle Enos; indeed I have done no mischief. Tell Aunt Martha
that Amanda slapped me, and that I did not slap back."
Uncle Enos nodded, and made a motion for Anne to be silent, and Anne
drew quickly back into the room.
"Uncle Enos will find out," she whispered to the little wooden doll,
"Martha Stoddard," that her father had made for her when she was a very
small girl, and which was still one of her greatest treasures. But the
July afternoon faded into the long twilight and no one called to Anne to
come down. She began to feel hungry. "I wish I had eaten my share of
that luncheon and not given it to Amos to carry home," she thought. For
on her way home she had met Amos and had given the lunch basket into his
charge, telling him to carry it home to Amanda, but saying nothing of
Amanda's anger.
As Anne sat in the loft chamber waiting for the call that did not come,
she began to feel that she had been treated very badly. "And Aunt Martha
says I shall not visit Rose Freeman, and does not tell me why I shall
not go. My father would let me; I know that full well. And I am going; I
will walk to Brewster!" Anne's heart grew lighter as she thought of all
the joys that a visit to Rose would mean. "I'll start to-night," she
decided. "Maybe it will take me a long time, as there are no roads, but
I know I can find the way. Oh, I wish it would get dark! I'll take you,
Martha Stoddard, but I guess I'll change your name, for Aunt Martha
doesn't like me any more," and the little girl began to feel very lonely
and unhappy. The room door swung open at that very moment and there
stood Mrs. Stoddard with a mug full of creamy milk and a plate of corn
bread.
"Here is your supper, Anne. And I hope you are ready to tell me why you
pushed Amanda down and ran off with her basket," and Mrs. Stoddard
looked at Anne with a puzzled expression in her kind eyes.
"I did not----" began Anne.
"There, there, child. Mrs. Cary told me the whole story. Tell me the
truth, and I'll not be hard with you," and Mrs. Stoddard set down the
mug and plate on the light-stand and stood waiting.
"I will not say another word!" declared Anne, who felt that even her
dear Aunt Martha had turned against her.
"Then you must stay up here until you are a more obedient child," said
Mrs. Stoddard, and went slowly out of the room. "I don't see what has
possessed the child," she said to Captain Enos on returning to the
kitchen.
"She has always been a truthful child, Martha," ventured the captain,
"so why not believe her now?"
"I would gladly, Enos; but Mrs. Cary came straight to me as soon as
Amanda reached home, and 'twas an hour later when Anne returned, and she
has no word of excuse. 'Twill do the child no harm to stay in her room
until she can tell me the reason for such behavior. And of course this
visit to the Freemans' must be given up. 'Twould not do to let her go
after such conduct."
"A pity," responded the captain. "'Twould have been a fine journey for
the little maid."
Anne could hear the murmur of their voices as she drank the milk and ate
the corn bread. "I wish I had some bread to take with me," she thought.
"I'll take my blue cape, and my shoes and white stockings, for I'm sure
I ought to wear them on the chaise," and Anne tiptoed about the room
gathering up her clothing. It did not make a very large bundle, even
when she decided to take the white muslin dress, and the coral beads.
She heard Captain Enos and Aunt Martha go to their chamber, and then,
holding "Martha Stoddard" and the bundle in her arms, crept down the
narrow stairway. The outer door stood ajar to admit the cool fragrant
air, and in a moment Anne was running along the sandy track that led
through the little settlement. It was still early, but there was not a
light to be seen in any of the small gray houses. The summer sky was
filled with stars, and as Anne ran she could see her shadow stretching
ahead of her, "as if I were running right over it all the time," she
whispered to "Martha Stoddard."
The beautiful harbor seemed like a shining mirror, it lay so calm and
still in the shadow of the land. But Anne did not stop to look at stars
or sea; she wanted to reach the pines at the end of the village. Then
she meant to go on as fast as she could toward Truro. "There will be
nice places to rest under the trees, where nobody will ever look for me;
perhaps no one will want to look," thought the little girl, with a choky
sensation in her throat as she remembered the strange happenings of the
afternoon.
The track grew more indistinct toward the end of the settlement, and
when Anne reached the woods the shadows were dark, and she was obliged
to go carefully in order not to lose her way. The border line between
Truro and Province Town was marked by the jawbone of a whale set in the
ground by the side of a red oak stump. The path up to this landmark was
well known to all the village children; the hill was called Cormorant
Hill; and Anne had been there many times with Amanda and Amos and the
Starkweather children, and was very sure that from that place she could
find her way through Truro to Wellfleet. "I'll not rest until I get to
Kexconeoquet," decided Anne. Kexconeoquet was the Indian name for the
hill.
About half-way up the slope Anne stopped to rest under a tall pine tree.
There was a bed of soft green moss, and as she sat down she gave a
little tired sigh. "Maybe it will be morning before I get to the top of
the hill," she thought, and put "Martha Stoddard" carefully down on the
moss. "I suppose I might sleep a minute," she said drowsily, arranging
her bundle for a pillow and resting her head upon it. And a moment later
an inquisitive little squirrel noticed that there was a little girl in
a brown gingham dress fast asleep under the pine tree.
Mrs. Stoddard awoke early the next morning, and when she and Captain
Enos sat down to their simple breakfast she said:
"I hear no sound of Anne, and I'll let her sleep late this morning; when
she wakes she will tell me what happened. I woke up in the night and
thought about it, and I feel sure our little maid could not have been
all to blame. Amanda is quick to find trouble."
Uncle Enos nodded approvingly. "'Twill do her no harm to sleep," he
agreed, "and do not make up your mind that she must not go for the visit
to Brewster and Boston. I can set her across to Brewster come Tuesday.
'Twill give me a chance to get some canvas for a new jib for the sloop."
Captain Enos spoke softly, and tiptoed out of the little kitchen, and
Aunt Martha moved quietly about the house until the long summer morning
was half over; then she went softly up the stairs, and opened the door
to Anne's room. In a moment she realized what had happened: that Anne
had run away; and she lost no time in hurrying to the shore, where
Captain Enos was salting his yesterday's catch of fish and spreading
them on the "flakes"--long low frames--to dry. Captain Starkweather and
Amanda's father were near by, busy at the same work, and further along
the shore were other groups of men taking care of the "catch" of the
previous day. For the dried fish were shipped to many distant places,
and curing them was a part of the fisherman's business.
"Anne is gone! She has run away," called Mrs. Stoddard, and in a moment
she was telling Captain Enos that she was sure that the little girl had
crept out of the house in the night. Captain Starkweather and Mr. Cary
listened in amazement.
"But where could she go?" asked Captain Enos. "There's something wrong
in this. Anne called to me from her window yesterday that she knew not
the reason for her being punished. She has run away from us, Martha,
because we have been unfair toward her."
"But where? Stop not to talk, Enos. Is there a boat missing? Like as not
Anne has set forth for Boston." And Mrs. Stoddard looked out over the
wide harbor as if expecting to see Anne sailing away.
"It may be your little girl is playing about and will soon return,"
suggested Captain Starkweather.
"Is her doll gone?" questioned Captain Enos; "for if it is not you may
be sure that Anne is not far away."
"Indeed, I did not think to look; and you may be right, Captain
Starkweather. I'll step back and see," and Mrs. Stoddard's face
brightened as she turned toward home, followed by Captain Enos and the
two fishermen.
"The doll is gone," she called down from the little chamber, "and Anne's
cape and beads, and her shoes and stockings."
In a short time every one in the village knew of Anne's disappearance,
and Amanda heard her father say that he feared Anne had started off in
one of the little boats. "If she has there is small chance for the
child," he said soberly, and Amanda began to whimper.
"She gave me Amanda's basket to bring home yesterday," said Amos; "'tis
in the shed."
"Yes, she ran off with it yesterday, and ate all the lunch herself,"
explained Mrs. Cary, "and slapped Amanda. Your sister came running home
crying as if her heart would break."
"Anne didn't eat the luncheon. 'Twas all in the basket, and I ate it,"
said Amos. "I don't believe she slapped Amanda, anyway. Or if she did
I'll bet Amanda slapped her first."
"Amos!" Mr. Cary's voice was very stern, and the boy said no more.
It was found that a rowboat was missing, and remembering how Anne and
the Cary children had once started out to sail to Boston, it was
generally believed that Anne had started off in the boat. Nevertheless
search-parties went across the narrow strip of land to the outer beach
and up and down the shore of the harbor and along the edge of the Truro
woods. Several boats started off, for it was felt that the best chance
of finding her was the hope that the little boat could not have gone
very far. "It may have been swept out to sea," Mr. Cary said, and at
this Amanda set up such a wail that he instantly added: "But Anne will
be found; of course she will."