and Anne shook her head smilingly. "I am my own father's little girl; though I like them well," she added.

The two were seated on a gra.s.sy hummock where no eye could see them; but from time to time John Nelson looked about furtively as if expecting some one to appear.

"You are not a 'traitor' or a 'spy,' are you, father?" questioned the child. "When the Cary children did say so I chased them from the spring, and Captain Enos said I did well. But I did think you lost at sea, father!"

The man shook his head. "Try and remember what I tell you, child, that you may know your father for an honest man. The day I left harbor on my fishing trip I was run down by one of those British vessels. The sloop sank, and they threw me a rope and pulled me on board. It was rare sport for their sailors to see me struggle for my very life." The man stopped and his face grew very grave and stern. "Then they said they were coming into Cape Cod Harbor, and that I should be their pilot. They said they would make a good bonfire of the shanties of the settlement. And then, child, I misled them. I laughed and said, ''Tis a settlement of good Royalists if ever there was one.' They would scarce believe me. But they came into harbor, and when the men proved civil and refused them nothing, then they credited what I said. But they told me they were bound for Dorchester Harbor, and there they would make a good English soldier of me.

I said nothing, but this morning, in the confusion of making sail, I slipped overboard and swam ash.o.r.e, bound that I would have a look at my girl and know her safe and well."

"And now, father, shall we go back and live in the little house by the sh.o.r.e? Mistress Stoddard has kept our things safely, and she has taught me many useful things," said Anne proudly.

"No, child. For me to stay in this settlement would bring trouble upon it.

Those ships will return here, and if I were found among the men here, then, indeed, would their anger be great. They must think me drowned, else they would indeed make a bonfire of every house along the sh.o.r.e."

"But what will you do, father? You must stay with me now."

"No, dear child. I must make my way up the cape to the settlements and join the Americans. My eyes are opened: 'Tis right that they should protect their homes. I will have some information for them, and I no longer have any place here. The Stoddards are good to you, Anne? They task thee not beyond thy strength? and they speak pleasantly to thee?"

"They are ever kind, father; they do smile on me, and Captain Enos does always give me the best piece of fish at table; and he told the Cary children that I was his little girl, and that I was not to be plagued. But he is not my own father," answered Anne, "and if you must go up the cape I will go with you. The nights are warm and pleasant, and I shall like well to sleep out-of-doors with the stars shining down on us. And if you go with the Americans I will go too. They will not mind one little girl!"

Her father smoothed the dark hair tenderly and smiled at the eager, upturned face.

"You love me, Anne, and I'll not forget that I have a dear, brave daughter waiting for me. I'll be the braver and the better man remembering. But you cannot go with me. I shall be scant fed and footsore for many a long day, and I will not let you bear any hardship I can keep from you. It will be a joy to me to know you safe with Mistress Stoddard; and if I live they shall be repaid for all they do for you. They are indeed kind to you?" he again questioned anxiously.

"They are indeed," responded Anne, seriously.

"Now I must begin my journey, Anne. And do not say that you have seen me.

Keep in your heart all I have told you. I shall come for you when I can.

But you are to be happy and not think of me as in danger. A brave man is always quite safe, and I wish you to believe that your father is a brave man, Anne."

"Am I not to tell Mistress Stoddard?"

"Tell no one, Anne. Remember. Promise me that when they speak of me as drowned you will say no word!"

"I will not speak, father. But if they do say 'traitor' or 'spy' I am not to bear it. Captain Enos said I need not."

A little smile came over the man's face and he nodded silently. Then he kissed his little daughter and again promising that it should not be long before he would come for her, he turned and made his way through the wood, and soon Anne could no longer see him.

For a long time the little girl sat silent and sorrowful where he had left her. She had forgotten all about the little brown cow; her wooden doll lay neglected on the gra.s.s beside her. But after a little she remembered the errand on which she had been sent, and, picking Martha up, started off to drive Brownie back to the pasture near home.

Anne was so quiet that day that at night Mrs. Stoddard questioned her anxiously. "Have those Cary children been saying hateful words to you again, child?" she asked.

"No, I have not been to the spring," answered Anne.

"Has Jimmie Starkweather been telling thee more foolish tales of a big wolf that comes prowling about at night?" continued Mrs. Stoddard.

"Oh, no, Mistress Stoddard. And indeed I do not think Jimmie Starkweather would frighten me. You know his father has seen the wolf. 'Twas near Blackwater Pond."

"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 mola.s.ses over it?"

Anne nodded soberly. Mola.s.ses 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.

"I do wish they would ripen speedily," she said aloud. "Indeed those I tasted of yesterday had a pleasant flavor, and I am sure Mistress Stoddard would be well pleased if I could bring home enough for a pie. I will take the small brown basket and follow the upper path, for the plum bushes grow thickly there," and Martha was carefully settled in her accustomed place, and Anne ran to the house for the brown basket, and in a few moments was following a sandy path which led toward the salt meadows.

She stopped often to pick the yellowing beach-plums, and now and then tasted one hopefully, expecting to find the sweet pungent flavor which the children so well loved, but only once or twice did she discover any sign of ripeness.

"I'll cross the upper marsh," she decided; "'Tis not so shaded there, and the sun lies warm till late in the day, and the plums are sure to be sweeter. I hope my father finds many to eat along his journey. I wish I had told him that it was best for me to go with him. We could have made little fires at night and cooked a fish, and, with berries to eat, it would not have been unpleasant."

The July sun beat warmly down, but a little breath of air from the sea moved steadily across the marshes filled with many pleasant odors. Here and there big bunches of marsh rosemary made spots of soft violet upon the brown gra.s.s, and now and then little flocks of sand-peeps rose from the ground and fluttered noisily away. But there was a pleasant midsummer stillness in the air, and by the time Anne had crossed the marsh and reached the shade of a low-growing oak tree she began to feel tired and content to rest a time before continuing her search for ripe beach-plums.

"I wish I had put Martha in the basket," she thought as she leaned comfortably back against the scrubby trunk of the little tree; "then I could have something to talk to." But she had not much time to regret her playmate, for in a second her eyes had closed and she was fast asleep.

There was a movement in the bushes behind her, a breaking of twigs, a soft fall of padded feet, but she did not awaken.

A big animal with a soft, gray coat of fur, with sharp nose and ears alertly pointed, came out from the woods, sniffed the soft air cautiously, and turned his head warily toward the oak tree. The creature was evidently not alarmed at what he saw there, for he approached the sleeping child gently, made a noiseless circle about her, and then settled down at her feet, much as a big dog might have done. His nose rested upon his paws and his sharp eyes were upon the sleeping child.

In a little while Anne awoke. She had dreamed that Jimmie Starkweather had led a beautiful, big gray animal to Mistress Stoddard's door, and told her that it was a wolf that he had tamed; so when she opened her eyes and saw the animal so near her she did not jump with surprise, but she said softly, "Wolf!"

The creature sprang to its feet at the sound of her voice, and moved off a few paces, and then turned and looked over its shoulder at Anne.

"Wolf!" Anne repeated, brushing her hair from her eyes and pulling her sunbonnet over her head. Then she reached out for the plum basket, and stood up. Still the animal had not moved.

"I do believe it is tame," thought Anne, and she made a step toward her visitor, but the gray wolf no longer hesitated, and with a bound it was off on a run across the marsh, and soon disappeared behind a clump of bushes.

"I wish it had stayed," Anne said aloud, for there had been nothing to make her afraid of wild creatures, and Jimmie's stories of a big wolf ranging about the outskirts of the settlement had not suggested to her that a wolf was anything which would do her harm, and she continued her search for beach-plums, her mind filled with the thought of many pleasant things.

"I do think, Mistress Stoddard, that I have plums enough for a pie," she exclaimed, as she reached the kitchen door and held up her basket for Mistress Stoddard's inspection.

"'Twill take a good measure of mola.s.ses, I fear," declared Mrs. Stoddard, "but you shall have the pie, dear child. 'Twill please Captain Enos mightily to have a pie for his supper when he gets in from the fishing; and I'll tell him 'twas Anne who gathered the plums," and she nodded smilingly at the little girl.

"And what think you has happened at the spring this morning?" she went on, taking the basket from Anne, who followed her into the neat little kitchen. "Jimmie Starkweather and his father near captured a big gray wolf. The creature walked up to the spring to drink as meek as a calf, and Mr. Starkweather ran for his axe to kill it, but 'twas off in a second."

"But why should he kill it?" exclaimed Anne. "I'm sure 'Tis a good wolf.

'twas no harm for it to drink from the spring."