Thing Is Going To Happen”

A Little Maid of Massachusetts
Colony

CHAPTER I

AMANDA’S MISTAKE

“Do you think I might go, Aunt Martha?” There was a pleading note in the little girl’s voice as she stood close by Mrs. Stoddard’s chair and watched her folding the thin blue paper on which Rose Freeman’s letter was written.

“It is a pleasant invitation, surely,” replied Mrs. Stoddard, “but the Freemans have ever been good friends to us; and so Rose is to visit their kin in Brewster and then journey back to Boston with her father in his chaise, and she says there will be plenty of room for you. Well! Well! ’Tis a wonderful journey.”

Anne moved uneasily. “But, Aunt Martha, do you forget that she asks if Uncle Enos cannot bring me to Brewster?”

“Yes, child, I have read the letter, and I doubt not Enos will set you safe across to Brewster. And your father’s vessel will be due in Boston early in September, and he could bring you safely home to Province Town. We’ll see what Uncle Enos says about sailing across to Brewster,” and Mrs. Stoddard smiled affectionately at Anne’s delighted exclamation. It was two years before that Anne Nelson, whose father’s boat had been seized by an English ship, had come to live with the Stoddards. Her father had escaped, and, after serving the colonies until after the battle of Lexington, had returned to Province Town, and was now away on a fishing cruise. Anne had visited the Freemans the year before, and now this pleasant invitation for a journey to Boston had been brought by one of the harbor fishermen, the only way letters came to Province Town. It was no wonder Anne was eager for permission to go. It would be a three days’ ride from Brewster, and the road would take her through many pleasant towns and villages. There was not a person in the settlement who had taken the journey by land. Uncle Enos declared that Province Town folk who could sail a good boat, with fair winds, to Boston in six hours were too wise to take such a roundabout route as the land offered.

“But it will be a fine ride for Anne,” he agreed. “She will learn much by the journey, and Squire Freeman will take good care of her. I’ll set her across to Brewster on Tuesday, as Rose says they plan to start early on Wednesday morning. Well, Anne,” and he turned toward the happy child, “what do you think the Cary children will say when you tell them that you are to ride to Boston in a fine chaise?”

“I do not know, but I think Amos will say that he would not journey by land; he is all for big ships; but I’m sure Amanda will think it is a wonderful thing, and wish to go with me, and indeed I wish she might. But why do we not have chaises in Province Town?”

“We must have roads first,” replied Aunt Martha smilingly; “but Province Town has no need of coaches and roads with good boats in harbor. Now we must see that your clothes are in order, for a week soon goes.”

“Anne! Anne!” and before Anne could respond a girl of about her own age came running into the kitchen. “Can you go with me over to the outer beach? May she go, Mrs. Stoddard? See! I have enough luncheon for us both in this basket,” and Amanda held up a pretty basket woven of sweet grass.

“May I, Aunt Martha? And oh, Amanda! A wonderful thing is going to happen to me. Isn’t it wonderful, Uncle Enos?”

Aunt Martha and Uncle Enos both smiled and nodded, and Amanda looked from one to the other in great surprise.

“Run along with Amanda and tell her all about it,” said Mrs. Stoddard, and the two little girls started happily off.

“I can guess,” declared Amanda, “for I know that Captain Starkweather brought you a letter from Boston, and I can guess who the letter is from.”

Anne shook her head laughingly. “You would guess that it was from my dear father,” she answered.

“And is it not?” questioned Amanda in surprise.

“It is from Rose Freeman,” announced Anne. “And oh, Amanda, she asks me to come to Brewster next week, and go with her in her father’s chaise to Boston!” And Anne turned, smiling happily, toward Amanda. She had expected Amanda to exclaim with delight over such a wonderful piece of news, but instead of delight Amanda’s face expressed an angry surprise. She had stopped short, and stood looking at Anne.

“Rose Freeman!” she exclaimed. “Boston in a chaise! I wonder I play with you at all, Anne Nelson. Why don’t you stay in Boston? I shouldn’t care if you did!” and throwing the basket of luncheon on the ground Amanda turned and ran back toward home.

Anne looked after her in amazement. “That’s the way she used to act before we were friends,” she said aloud; “and all that good food thrown down in the sand,” for the basket was overturned, and two round ginger cakes, two pieces of corn bread, and two three-cornered tarts had rolled out. Anne knelt down and picked them up carefully, shaking off the sand, and returned them to the basket.

“Her mother cannot afford to have such good things wasted,” said Anne; for even the children in Province Town in the days of the Revolution knew how difficult it was to secure supplies. The end of Cape Cod, with its sandy dunes, scant pasturage or tillage, made the people depend on their boats, not only to bring in fish, but all other household necessities. The harbor was unguarded, and its occupation as a rendezvous by English men-of-war had made it very hard for the people to get provisions. So it was no wonder that Anne looked at the ginger cakes and tarts as special delicacies, too precious to lie in the sand.

“I’ll go to the outer beach by myself,” decided Anne, “but I will not eat my share of the luncheon. I do not see why Amanda should be angry,” and the little girl walked on, choosing her way carefully among the scrubby pine trees or patches of beach-plum bushes.

Amanda ran swiftly, and in a moment or two was almost back in the Stoddards’ dooryard!

“I mustn’t go home,” she said to herself; “they would question me, and I would have to tell them all the wonderful news about Anne. And, oh,” she exclaimed aloud, “if I did not throw down the fine treat my mother put in the basket. I’ll go back for it;