"'English history,'" Anna repeated to herself excitedly. She wondered what it could mean. But if it was something that Melvina did she was eager to begin.

Mr. Lyon smiled down at his little visitor as she curtsied in the doorway. He hoped his own little daughter might return with eyes as bright and cheeks as glowing.

"This is where Melvina sits for her study hour," he said, pointing to a small chair near a side window. There was a table in front of the chair, and on the table was spread a brightly colored map.

"To-day we are to discover something of the English opinion of Americans," began Mr. Lyon, taking up a small book. "It is always wise to know the important affairs of the time in which we live, is it not, Anna?" he said thoughtfully.

"Yes, sir," responded Anna seriously, sitting very straight indeed and feeling of greater consequence than ever before.

"America's great trouble now, remember, is taxation without representation," continued the minister; "and now listen carefully to what an Englishman has to say of it: 'While England contends for the right of taxing America we are giving up substance for the shadow; we are exchanging happiness for pride. If we have no regard for America, let us at least respect the mother country. In a dispute with America who would we conquer? Ourselves. Everything that injures America is injurious to Great Britain, and we commit a kind of political suicide when we endeavor to crush them into obedience.'

"Ah! There is still wisdom in the English council; but I fear it is too late," said Mr. Lyon, as if speaking his thoughts aloud. "And now, my child, what is the subject of our lesson?" he questioned, looking kindly at Anna.

"England and America," she replied promptly.

Mr. Lyon nodded. "And why does America firmly resolve not to be unjustly taxed?" he asked.

"Because it wouldn't be right," said Anna confidently.

Mr. Lyon was evidently pleased by her direct answers.

"If an Englishman sees the injustice of his government it is small wonder that every American, even to a little girl, can see that it is not to be borne," said Mr. Lyon, rising and pacing up and down the narrow room, his thoughts full of the great conflict that had already begun between England and her American colonies.

Anna's eyes turned toward the map. There was a long yellow strip marked "American Colonies," then, lower down, a number of red blots and circles with "The West Indies" printed across them. Far over on the end of the map was a queerly shaped green object marked "Asia" and below it a beautiful blue place called "Europe." Anna was so delighted and interested in discovering France, and Africa, the aegean Sea, and the British Isles, that she quite forgot where she was. But as she looked at the very small enclosure marked "England," and then at the long line of America she suddenly exclaimed: "America need not be afraid."

Mr. Lyon had seated himself at his desk, and at the sound of Anna's voice he looked up in surprise.

"Why, child! You have been so quiet I had forgotten you. Run out to the sitting-room to Mrs. Lyon," and Anna obeyed, not forgetting to curtsy as she left the room.

[Ill.u.s.tration: HOW LONG THE AFTERNOON SEEMED!]

Mrs. Lyon had a basket piled high with work. There were stockings to be darned, pillow-cases to be neatly repaired, and an ap.r.o.n of stout drilling to be hemmed. Anna's task was to darn stockings. She was given Melvina's thimble to use, a smooth wooden ball to slip into the stocking, and a needle and skein of cotton.

How long the afternoon seemed! Never before had Anna stayed indoors for the whole of a May afternoon. She felt tired and sleepy, and did not want to walk about the garden after supper--as Mrs. Lyon kindly suggested; and not until Mrs. Lyon said that Melvina, on every pleasant day, walked about the garden after supper, did Anna go slowly down the path. But she stood at the gate looking in the direction of her home with wistful eyes.

"Two weeks," she whispered; it seemed so long a time could never pa.s.s.

Then she remembered that the next day she would go home for the daily visit agreed upon.

If the days pa.s.sed slowly with Anna, to Melvina they seemed only too short. She had quickly made friends with Rebecca, and the elder girl was astonished at the daring spirit of the minister's daughter. Melvina would balance herself on the very edge of the bluff, when she and Rebby, often followed by a surprised and unhappy Luretta, went for a morning walk. Or on their trips to the lumber yard for chips Melvina would climb to the top of some pile of timber and dance about as if trying to make Rebby frightened lest she fall. She went wading along the sh.o.r.e, and brought home queerly shaped rocks and tiny mussel-sh.e.l.ls; and, as her father had hoped, her cheeks grew rosy and her eyes bright.

The day set for the erection of the liberty pole was the last day of the "exchange visit" of the two little girls, and Anna was now sure that Mrs. Lyon must think her very much like Melvina, for she had learned her daily lessons obediently, and moved about the house as quietly as a mouse.

But when she awoke on the morning of the day upon which she was to return home she was sure it was the happiest day of her life. Mrs. Lyon had even called her a "quiet and careful child," and the minister smiled upon her, and said that she "was a loyal little maid." So she had great reason for being pleased; and the thought of being home again made her ready to dance with delight.

The day that the tree of liberty was planted was declared a holiday, and the inhabitants of the town gathered on the bluff where it was to be set. Melvina and Anna and Luretta were together, and the other children of the neighborhood were scattered about.

"Where is Rebby, Mother?" Anna asked, looking about for her sister.

"To be sure! She started off with Lucia Horton, but I do not see them,"

responded Mrs. Weston, smiling happily to think that her own little Danna would no longer be absent from home.

There was great rejoicing among the people as the tree was raised, and citizen after citizen stepped forward and made solemn pledges to resist England's injustice to the American colonies. Then, amid the shouts of the a.s.sembled inhabitants, the discharge of musketry, and the sound of fife and drum, Machias took its rightful place among the defenders of American liberty.

But Rebecca Weston and Lucia Horton, sitting in an upper window of the Horton house, looked out at the inspiring scene without wishing to be any nearer. Rebecca was ashamed when she remembered her own part in trying to prevent the erection of a liberty pole, for now she realized all it stood for; and she was no longer afraid of an attack upon the town by an English gunboat. To Rebecca it seemed that such an attack would bring its own punishment. Her thoughts were now filled by a great desire to do something, something difficult and even dangerous to her own safety, in order to make up for that evening when she had crept out in the darkness and helped Lucia send the tree adrift.

But Lucia's mind was filled with entirely different thoughts. She was ready to cry with disappointment and fear in seeing the liberty pole set up. She could not forget that her father had said that such a thing would mean trouble.

"If we had not set it adrift, Lucia, we could be on the bluff now with the others," Rebby whispered, as they heard the gay notes of the fife.

"Bosh! Who wants to be any nearer? My mother says 'tis a silly and foolish performance," replied Lucia. "But perhaps 'twill be cut down before the _Polly_ comes into harbor."

Rebecca jumped up from the window-seat, her face flushed and her eyes shining.

"No one would dare, Lucia Horton. And if it is cut down I'll know you, or someone in this house, planned it; and I will tell my father just what you told me and what we did," she exclaimed, starting toward the door.

"You can't tell, ever, Rebecca Weston! You promised not to," Lucia called after her, and Rebecca stopped suddenly. Lucia was right. No matter what happened she could never reveal what Lucia had told her, because of her promise; and a promise was a sacred thing.

Without a word of good-bye Rebecca went slowly down the stairs. This was the second time she had left the Horton house in anger. "I won't come here again," she thought, a little sadly, for she and Lucia had been "best friends" ever since Captain Horton had brought his family to the remote settlement.

"There's Rebby," Anna called joyfully, as holding her father's hand, and with her mother walking close behind, she came along the path toward home. Rebby was walking slowly along a short distance in front of the little party, and Anna soon overtook her.

"Oh, Rebby! Was it not a splendid sight to see the liberty tree set up?"

Anna exclaimed eagerly, "and all the men taking off their hats and cheering?"

"Yes," responded Rebby briefly; and then looking at Anna she said: "Oh, Danna! I wish, more than anything, that I could do something to protect the liberty tree."

"Perhaps you can, Rebby, sometime, you and I together," replied Anna hopefully; "anyway, isn't it lovely that I am home to stay?"

And to this Rebby could agree smilingly, but she kept in her heart the wish she had just uttered.

CHAPTER XII

WILD HONEY

Anna went singing about the house quite satisfied now to be herself; and Rebby and her mother smiled at each other at the happiness of the little girl.

"I doubt not you have learned many things, Danna," said Rebby, a little wistfully, as the sisters sat on the broad doorstep after supper looking down at the broad flowing river.

"Yes, indeed!" replied Anna confidently. "Why, Rebby, I know all about history. The minister told me that a hundred and fifty years ago there were English traders living right here, and they were driven away by the French. And then, some forty years ago, Governor Belcher of Ma.s.sachusetts came cruising along this coast, and there was no one at all here. And, Rebby, Mr. Lyon says there are no such pine forests in all the colonies as stretch along behind this settlement. But, Rebby, you are not listening!" and Anna looked reproachfully at her sister.

"Oh, yes, indeed, Danna, I heard every word. And I heard Father say that very soon there would be a regular school here, with a master, as soon as America conquers her enemies. But, Danna, do you suppose anyone will dare touch the liberty pole?" For Rebby's thoughts could not long stray from Lucia Horton's prediction that it might be cut down.

"What's that?" exclaimed Mr. Weston from the doorway behind them. "Cut down the liberty pole? Why, there is not a man in Machias who would do such a traitorous deed."