After luncheon they all went back to the shore, and picked up many tiny shells. Some of these were clear white, and others a delicate pink. Mr. Freeman told them that the Indian women pricked tiny holes, with a small sharp-pointed awl, in these shells and strung them like beads, and Rose and Anne thought it would be a fine plan to carry a quantity of shells to Boston and string them into necklaces.
The time went swiftly, and when Mr. Freeman said that Lady had now had a good rest and would be quite ready to start on, the girls reluctantly left the beach and walked slowly toward the chaise.
“I wonder where father and Lady are?” said Rose, and as she spoke Mr. Freeman came running across the little green field.
“Lady is gone! Stolen, I’m afraid,” he called out.
The girls looked at him in amazement.
“She was securely fastened, and even if she got loose would not have gone far,” he continued, “and there is no trace of her.” Mr. Freeman’s face was very anxious, and Rose exclaimed:
“But who could take Lady, father? We have not seen a person since we left Plymouth.”
“Some strolling person,” answered Mr. Freeman; “perhaps some frightened Tory from one of the loyal settlements on his way toward a place of safety.”
Anne stood silent, holding up the skirt of her dress filled with the pretty shells.