Amanda brought him the small stone jug from the cabin, and telling the girls not even to step out of the boat until he came back, Amos started for the shore. They saw him wade the first channel, run across a long stretch of wet sand, cross the other channel and reach the shore safely.
“Goody!” exclaimed Amanda; “now he will find a spring, fill the jug and hurry back, and we can have a good drink of water,” and she turned smilingly to Anne. But Anne was looking very sober. She had been thinking over her other trip, and now remembered what Mrs. Stoddard had said when she returned from Boston.
“Oh, Amanda!” she said, looking ready to cry, “when I ran off before with Uncle Enos, Aunt Martha did tell me that I must never do so again. Now I have disobeyed her, and perhaps she will not want me to live with her any more.”
“Then you can live with your father,” answered Amanda cheerfully.
“But my father was to live with us,” said Anne. “He was to have the big, pleasant loft that looks toward the water, and was to help Uncle Enos with the fishing. Perhaps they will not want either of us since I have been so unruly and disobedient.”
Amanda longed to tell Anne that she should have a home with her, but she remembered that the white kitten had to be given away because they could not afford to keep it, and so kept silent.
“I hope Amos will not linger,” she said, after a little silence. “He forgets that we are as thirsty as he is.”
The little girls watched the shore anxiously, expecting every minute to see Amos hurrying back with a jug full of fresh water, but time passed and he did not come.
“I think the tide has turned,” said Amanda. “See, the channels are widening every minute. If Amos does not come soon the water will be too deep. Oh, dear! I am afraid something has befallen him.”
“What could befall him?” questioned Anne. “’Tis a smooth and pleasant shore, with much taller trees than grow about Province Town. He is just playing about and has forgotten us.”