“Then, child, I fear you are ill. Your face is flushed and you left your porridge untasted. Would you like it better if I put a spoonful of molasses over it?”
Anne nodded soberly. Molasses was not to be refused, even if she must live without her brave father; and so she ate her porridge, and Mrs. Stoddard patted her on the shoulder, and told her that the beach-plums would soon be ripening and then she should have a pie, sweet and crusty. And if the captain did well at the fishing, and the British ships kept their distance, she should have some barley sugar, a great treat in those days.
“We’ll be getting you some sort of foot-gear before long, too,” promised Mrs. Stoddard. “I have enough wool yarn in the house to knit you a good pair of warm stockings. ’Tis an ugly gray; I wish I could plan some sort of dye for it to make it a prettier color.”
“But I like gray,” said Anne. “Last winter my feet were cold, and ached with the chilblains. My father knew not how to get stockings for me, and cut down his own, but they were hard to wear.”
“I should say so!” said Mrs. Stoddard; “a man is a poor manager when it comes to fending for children’s clothes. ’Tis well I am provided with some warm garments. When the frost comes you shall learn to knit, Anne; and if we be in good fortune you shall do a sampler,” and Anne, comforted and somewhat consoled by all these pleasant plans for her future happiness, went to sleep that night with the wooden doll closely clasped in her arms, wishing her father might know how good Mistress Stoddard was to her.
CHAPTER IV
ANNE AND THE WOLF
“A pie of beach-plums, sweet and crusty,” Anne repeated to herself the next day as she carried Martha out to the playhouse, and rearranged her bits of crockery, and looked off across the harbor.