“And I will learn to write,” said Anne, “and it may be I could send a letter to my dear father.”
“That is a good child,” said Captain Enos, patting the dark head; “learn to write and we’ll set about starting the letter to your father as soon as you have it ready.”
“I shall have much to tell him,” said Anne, smiling up into Uncle Enos’s kind face.
“And he’ll have a good deal to tell you,” replied Captain Enos. “I wish I could see him myself. I’d like news of what’s going on in Boston.”
CHAPTER XI
CAPTAIN ENOS’S SECRETS
The playhouse under the pines was almost forgotten as the days grew colder, and the fall rains came, with high winds; and Anne’s scarlet stocking was now long enough for Aunt Martha to “set the heel” and begin to shape the foot. School had begun in Elder Haven’s sitting-room, with fourteen scholars, and Anne was learning to write.
“Master Haven says I write my own name nicely,” she said at the end of the first week, “and that by the time school closes he thinks I can write a letter.”