Anne held a ball ready to roll, but at Frederick’s remark she dropped it, and stood looking at him angrily.
“It’s your turn!” he reminded her, looking at her in surprise.
“It’s not an old sand heap. It’s the loveliest place in the world. You can see twice as much salt water there as you can in Boston,” she declared.
“So you can,” agreed Frederick, “but it’s a sand heap just the same. A good place to catch cod, though.”
“Want to see my workshop?” the boy asked when they were all tired of bowling. “Father’s given me some fine pieces of wood, and I’m making a sled for Millicent to play with next winter.”
Frederick’s workshop was a corner of the carriage-house, where the fine chaise stood, and he had a work-bench there well supplied with tools, and spent many happy hours over his work.
“I’m going to have a shipyard and build ships,” he told Anne. “See this little model!” and he held up a tiny wooden ship, fully rigged, with a little American flag fastened at the top of the mainmast. “Rose made that flag,” he said proudly. “See, there’s a star for each colony, thirteen of ’em.”
Almost every day Anne and Rose walked to the wharves with Mr. Freeman to hear if there was any news of “The Yankee Hero.” It was the very last day of July when Mr. Freeman said, as they walked down the wharf, “There’s a Province Town schooner in harbor, Anne—‘The Sea Gull.’ She came for a new mainsail and will probably sail when the tide serves. There’s a boat from her now, headed for my wharf.”
Anne did not know that Amos Cary was on board the “Sea Gull,” but she was eager to see any one who came from the place Frederick had called “the old sand heap,” and watched the boat from the schooner as it came swiftly toward the Freeman wharf.
“Oh!” she exclaimed suddenly, and ran further out on the pier, quickly followed by Rose. “It looks just like Amos Cary’s head. Do you suppose it is?” she asked turning to Rose.