“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.