"Why, Dan! Where are your shoes and stockings?" said Rebecca, coming down the path to meet her sister. "You were so late in coming home that Mother sent me to meet you."

"What did Luretta say?" gasped Anna, thinking to herself that if Luretta had told of Melvina, and their making sport of her, that there was trouble in store for them all.

"Luretta hadn't time to say anything," responded Rebecca, "for I had just reached the door when we saw you coming. Now we'll get your shoes and stockings and start home, for Mother is waiting supper for us."

"Luretta has my shoes," said Anna, and ran on to the door, where Luretta was still waiting.

"Give me my shoes and stockings; quick, Lu! And then take all Melvina's things and run, as fast as you can, to the----"

"Luretta! Luretta!" called Mrs. Foster; and Luretta with a hurried whisper: "Oh, Anna! I haven't her things. Don't say a word about Melvina," vanished into the house.

"Come, Anna," called Rebecca reprovingly. "Father will come to look for us if you do not hasten. Why did not Luretta give you back your shoes and stockings?" she asked as Anna came slowly down the path. "It's a stupid game for her to keep them, I will say;" and she put a protecting arm across her sister's shoulder. "But do not feel bad, Dan, dear; she will bring them over before bedtime, if the storm holds off; and Mother has made a fine mola.s.ses cake for supper." But Anna made no response.

"Oh! Here comes the minister. Keep a little behind me, Dan, and he may not notice your bare feet," exclaimed Rebecca.

Usually the Reverend Mr. Lyon was very ceremonious in his greeting to the children of the parish; but to-night he wasted no time in salutations.

"Have you seen Melvina?" he asked anxiously. "She left home early this afternoon to visit at Captain Horton's and did not appear there at all; nor can we find trace of her."

"No, sir," responded Rebecca. "I have but come to fetch my sister home from Mr. Foster's, and have seen naught of Melvina."

Mr. Lyon turned and hurried back toward the main path, where London Atus was inquiring at every house if anyone had seen his little mistress; but no one had news of her.

"What can have befallen Melvina Lyon? And there's a storm coming up. I do hope no harm has come to her," said Rebecca, as she hurried Anna along the path.

"Oh, Rebby! It mustn't storm!" exclaimed Anna.

"'Twill only postpone Father's trip to the forest, Dan," said Rebby; "but look at those black clouds. 'Twill surely be a tempest. I hope we'll reach home before it breaks," and she started to run, pulling Anna along with her.

"Oh, Rebby, let me go! I can't go home! I can't!" exclaimed Anna, breaking away from her sister's clasping hand and darting ahead.

Rebecca had not heard Anna's last words, and thought her sister wished only to outrun her in the race home. So she ran quickly after her, and when at the turn by the blacksmith shop she lost sight of Anna she only thought that the younger girl was hidden by the turn of the path, and not until she pushed open the kitchen door did Rebecca realize that Anna had run away from her, that she had not meant to come home.

"Just in time," said Mr. Weston, drawing Rebecca in and closing the door against a gust of wind and rain. "But why did you not bring Danna home?

It has set in for a heavy storm, and she will now have to stay the night at Mr. Foster's."

CHAPTER IV

AT MR. LYON'S

Anna raced back along the path to the bluff as fast as she could go; but the strong wind swept against her, and at times nearly blew her over.

The rain came down in torrents; and, as it had grown dark with the approaching storm, she could no longer see her way clearly, and stubbed her toes against roots and stones until her feet were hurt and bleeding.

But she could not stop to think of this: she could think only of Melvina, cowering, wet and afraid, under the juniper bushes.

"Perhaps she will be blown down the slope into the river," thought Anna, "and it will be my fault. Perhaps I have killed Melvina, by trying to make myself out as cleverer than she. Oh! If she is only safe I'll never try to be clever again," she vowed, as she fought her way on against wind and rain.

As she reached the top of the bluff there was a moment's lull in the storm, and Anna could clearly see the wide branched juniper bushes where she had left Melvina.

"Melly! Melly!" she called, scrambling down the slope. But there was no answer; and in a moment Anna realized that Melvina was not under the trees.

The storm began again with even greater violence, and Anna was obliged to cling closely to the rough branches to keep from being swept down the slope. She could hear the dash of the waves on the sh.o.r.e, and she trembled at the thought that Melvina might have been swept down into the angry waters.

After a little Anna, on her hands and knees, crawled up the slope, clinging to bits of gra.s.s here and there, and not venturing to stand upright until she had reached the top.

She knew what she must do now, and she did not hesitate. She must go straight to Mr. Lyon's house and tell him the story from the moment that she had told Melvina that pine trees were alders. For a moment she wondered what would become of her afterward; but only for a moment did she think of herself.

It seemed to the little girl that she would never reach the minister's house. For a moment she rested in the shelter of the church, and then dragged herself on. Her feet hurt so badly now that it was all she could do to walk.

There were lights to be seen, up-stairs and down, at the parsonage; but Anna did not wonder at this. She managed to reach the front door and to lift the knocker.

In a moment London opened the door, holding a candle above his head.

"Well, boy, who be ye?" he questioned sharply, seeing only Anna's curly brown head.

"If you please, I am Anna Weston," faltered the little girl. "I--I--must see the minister. It's about Melvina."

A smile showed on the black face, and London nodded his head.

"Missy Melvina am safe in bed," he whispered, then in a louder tone, "Step in, if ye please, Missy Anna."

Anna dragged herself up the high step, and Mr. Lyon just then opened a door leading into his study.

"What is it, London?" he questioned, and seeing Anna, lifted his hands in amazement.

Anna stumbled toward him.

"I am to blame about Melvina!" she exclaimed, and, speaking as quickly as she could, she told the whole story. She told it exactly as it had happened, excepting Luretta's part of the mischief, and Melvina's willingness to wade in the creeping tide.

Mr. Lyon had taken her by the hand and led her into the candle-lit room.

A little fire blazed on the brick hearth, and as Anna came near it a little mist of steam rose from her wet clothes.

The minister listened, keeping Anna's cold little hand fast in his friendly clasp. His face was very grave, and when she finished with: "Is Melvina safe? London said she was. But, oh, Mr. Lyon, all her fine clothes are swept away, and it is my fault," he smiled down at her troubled face.

"Be in no further alarm, my child. But come with me, for your feet are cut and bruised, and Mrs. Lyon will give you dry clothing. Melvina does not blame you in her story of this mischievous prank. But I doubt not you are both blameworthy. But 'twill be your parents' duty to see to thy punishment." As the minister spoke he drew her toward a door at the far end of the room and opened it, calling for Mrs. Lyon, who rose from her seat near a low table in front of the big kitchen fireplace.

All Anna's courage had vanished. She hung her head, not daring to look at Mrs. Lyon, saying:

"I must go home. I must not stay."

"London is at your father's house ere this, and will tell him that you are to spend the night here. They will not be anxious about you," said Mrs. Lyon; "and now slip out of those wet garments. I have warm water to bathe your feet," and almost before Anna realized what was happening she found herself in a warm flannel wrapper, her bruised feet bathed and wrapped in comforting bandages, and a bowl of hot milk and corn bread on the little table beside her. When this was finished Mrs. Lyon led the little girl to a tiny chamber at the head of the stairs. A big bedstead seemed nearly to fill the room.

"Say your prayers, Anna," said Mrs. Lyon, and without another word she left the little girl alone. Anna was so thoroughly tired out that even the strange dark room did not prevent her from going to sleep, and when she awoke the tiny room was full of sunshine; she could hear robins singing in the maples near the house, and people moving about down-stairs. Then she sat up in bed with a little shiver of apprehension.