A Little Maid of Province Town Part 4

"But a wolf is a dangerous beast," replied Mrs. Stoddard; "the men-folk will take some way to capture it."

Anne felt the tears very near her eyes. To her, the gray wolf had not seemed dangerous. It had looked kindly upon her, and she had already resolved that if it ever were possible she would like to stroke its soft fur.

"Couldn't the wolf be tamed?" she questioned. "I went to sleep near the marsh this morning and dreamed that Jimmie Starkweather had a tame wolf."

But for some reason, which Anne herself could not have explained, she did not tell her good friend of the wild creature which had come so near to her when she slept, and toward whom she had so friendly a feeling, and Mrs. Stoddard, busy with her preparations for pie-making, did not speak further of the wolf.

There was a good catch of fish that day, and Captain Enos came home smiling and well pleased.

"If we could hope that the British s.h.i.+ps would keep out of harbor we could look forward to some comfort," he said, "but Starkweather had news from an Ipswich fisherman that the 'Somerset' was cruising down the cape, and like as not she'll anchor off the village some morning. And from what we hear, her sailors find it good sport to lay hands on what they see."

The appearance of the beach-plum pie, warm from the oven, turned the captain's thoughts to more pleasant subjects. "'Tis a clever child to find ripe beach-plums in July," he said, as he cut Anne a liberal piece, "and a bit of tartness gives it an excellent flavor. Well, well, it is surely a pleasant thing to have a little maid in the house," and he nodded kindly toward Anne.

After supper when Anne had gone up to her little chamber under the eaves, and Captain Enos and Mrs. Stoddard were sitting upon their front door-step enjoying the cool of the evening, Captain Enos said:

"Martha, Anne calls you Mistress Stoddard, does she not?"

"Always," answered his wife. "She is a most thoughtful and respectful child. Never does she speak of thee, Enos, except to say 'Captain.' She has been in the house for over two months now, and I see no fault in her."

"A quick temper," responded Captain Enos, but his tone was not that of a person who had discovered a fault. Indeed he smiled as he spoke, remembering the flight of the Cary children.

"I would like well to have the little maid feel that we were pleased with her," continued the captain slowly. "If she felt like calling me 'Father'

and you 'Mother,' I should see no harm in it, and perhaps 'twould be well to have her name put on the town records as bearing our name, Anne Stoddard?" and Captain Enos regarded his wife questioningly.

"It is what I have been wis.h.i.+ng for, Enos!" exclaimed Mrs. Stoddard, "but maybe 'twere better for the child to call us 'Uncle' and 'Aunt.' She does not yet forget her own father, you see, and she might feel 'twere not right to give another his name."

Captain Enos nodded approvingly. "A good and loyal heart she has, I know,"

he answered, "and 'twill be better indeed not to puzzle the little maid.

We'll be 'Uncle' and 'Aunt' to her then, Martha; and as for her name on the town records, perhaps we'll let the matter rest till Anne is old enough to choose for herself. If the British keep on harrying us it may well be that we fisherfolk will have to go further up the coast for safety."

"And desert Province Town?" exclaimed Mrs. Stoddard, "the place where your father and mine, Enos, were born and died, and their fathers before them.

No--we'll not search for safety at such a price. I doubt if I could live in those shut-in places such as I hear the upper landings are."

Captain Enos chuckled approvingly. "I knew well what you would say to that, Martha," he replied, "and now we must get our sleep, for the tide serves early to-morrow morning, and I must make the best of these good days."

"Captain Enos was well pleased with the pie, Anne," said Mrs. Stoddard the next morning, as the little girl stood beside her, carefully wiping the heavy ironware.[1] "And what does thee think! The captain loves thee so well, child, that it would please him to have thee call him Uncle Enos.

That is kind of him, is it not, Anne?" and Mistress Stoddard smiled down at the eager little face at her elbow.

"It is indeed, Mistress Stoddard," replied Anne happily; "shall I begin to-night?"

"Yes, child, and I shall like it well if you call me 'Aunt'; 'twill seem nearer than 'Mistress Stoddard,' and you are same as our own child now."

Anne's dark eyes looked up earnestly into Mistress Stoddard's kind face.

"But I am my father's little girl, too," she said.

"Of course you are," answered her friend. "Captain Enos and I are not asking you to forget your father, child. No doubt he did his best for you, but you are to care for us, too."

"But I do, Aunt Martha; I love you well," said Anne, so naturally that Mrs. Stoddard stopped her work long enough to give her a kiss and to say, "There, child, now we are all settled. 'twill please your Uncle Enos well."

As soon as the few dishes were set away Anne wandered down the hill toward the spring. She no longer feared the Cary children, and she hoped to see some of the Starkweather family and hear more of the gray wolf, and at the spring she found Jimmie with two wooden buckets filled and ready for him to carry home to his waiting mother.

"You missed the great sight yesterday, Anne," he said, as she approached the spring. "What think you! A wolf as big as a calf walked boldly up and drank, right where I stand."

"'twas not as big as a calf," declared Anne; "and why should you seek to kill a wild creature who wants but a drink? 'Tis not a bad wolf."

Jimmie looked at her in surprise, his gray eyes widening and s.h.i.+ning in wonder. "All wolves are bad," he declared. "This same gray wolf walked off with Widow Bett's plumpest hen and devoured it before her very eyes."

"Well, the poor creature was hungry. We eat plump hens, when we can get them," answered Anne.

Jimmie laughed good-naturedly. "Wait till you see the beast, Anne," he answered. "Its eyes s.h.i.+ne like black water, and its teeth show like pointed rocks. You'd not stand up for it so boldly if you had but seen it."

Anne made no answer; she was not even tempted to tell Jimmie that she had seen the animal, had been almost within arm's reach of it.

"I must be going," she said, "but do not harm the wolf, Jimmie," and she looked at the boy pleadingly; "perhaps it knows no better than to take food when it is hungry."

"I'd like its skin for a coat," the boy answered, "but 'Tis a wise beast and knows well how to take care of itself. It's miles away by this time,"

and picking up the buckets he started toward home, and Anne turned away from the spring and walked toward the little pasture where Brownie fed in safety.

She stopped to speak to the little brown cow and to give her a handful of tender gra.s.s, and then wandered down the slope and along the edge of the marsh.

"Maybe 'twill come again," she thought, as she reached the little oak tree and sat down where she had slept the day before. "Perhaps if I sit very still it will come out again. I'm sure 'Tis not an unfriendly beast."

The little girl sat very still; she did not feel sleepy or tired, and her dark eyes scanned the marsh hopefully, but as the summer morning drifted toward noon she began to realize that her watch was in vain.

"I s'pose Jimmie Starkweather was right, and the gray wolf is miles away,"

she thought, as she decided that she must leave the shadow of the oak and hurry toward home so that Aunt Martha would not be anxious about her.

"I wish the wolf knew I liked him," the little girl said aloud, as she turned her face toward home. "I would not chase him away from the spring, and I would not want his gray fur for a coat," and Anne's face was very sober, as she sent a lingering look along the thick-growing woods that bordered the marsh. She often thought of the wolf, but she never saw it again.

[1] A coa.r.s.e chinaware.

CHAPTER V

SCARLET STOCKINGS

"Good news from Truro, Captain Enos," said Joseph Starkweather, one morning in August, as the two neighbors met at the boat landing. "There'll be good hope for American freedom if all our settlements show as much wit and courage."

"And what have Truro men done?" demanded Captain Enos. "They are mostly of the same blood as our Province Town folks, and would naturally be of some wit."

Joseph Starkweather's eyes brightened and twinkled at his neighbor's answer.

"'twas the sand-hills helped them," he answered. "You know the little valleys between the row of sand-hills near the sh.o.r.e? Well, the British fleet made anchorage off there some days since, and the Truro men had no mind for them to land and spy out how few there were. So they gathered in one of those little valleys and, carrying smooth poles to look like muskets, they marched out in regular file like soldiers over the sand-hill; then down they went through the opposite depression and around the hill and back, and then up they came again, constantly marching; and the British, who could be seen getting boats ready to land, thought better of it. They believed that an immense force of American soldiers had a.s.sembled, and the s.h.i.+ps hoisted sail and made off. 'twas good work."

"Indeed it was," responded Captain Enos. "I could wish that we of this settlement were not so at the mercy of the British. Our harbor is too good. It draws them like a magnet. I do think three thousand s.h.i.+ps might find safe anchorage here," and Captain Enos turned an admiring look out across the beautiful harbor.