“Come and play,” called Amanda. “I am not angry if you did chase me. My mother says you knew no better!”
Anne listened in amazement. Knew no better! Had not Captain Enos approved of her defense of herself, and were not the Cary children the first to begin trouble with her! So Anne shook her head and walked sedately on.
“Come and play,” repeated the shrill voice. “My brother and Jimmie Starkweather are gone looking for our cow, and I have no one to play with.”
“Is your cow lost, too?” exclaimed Anne, quite forgetting Amanda’s unkindness in this common ill-fortune.
Amanda now came out from behind the savin tree; a small, thin-faced child, with light eyes, sandy hair and freckles.
“Yes, and we think the Indians have driven them off. For the Starkweathers’ cow is not to be found. ’twill be a sad loss, my mother says; for it will leave but three cows in the town.”
“But they may be found,” insisted Anne. “My Uncle Enos has gone now to look for Brownie.”
“‘Uncle Enos’!” repeated Amanda scornfully. “He’s not your uncle. You are a waif. My mother said so, and waifs do not have uncles or fathers or anybody.”
“I am no waif, for I have a father, and my Uncle Enos will tell your mother not to say such words of me!” declared Anne boldly, but she felt a lump in her throat and wished very much that she had not stopped to talk with Amanda.
“I don’t see why you get angry so quick,” said Amanda. “You get angry at everything. I’d just as soon play with you, if you are a waif.”