In a few days Anna’s feet were healed, and, wearing her soft moccasins, she could run about as well as ever. But her father and mother were quick to see that a great change had come over their little daughter. She no longer wanted to be called “Dan”; she told her mother that she wanted her hair to grow long, and she even asked Rebecca to teach her how to sew more evenly and with tinier stitches.
For Anna had made a firm resolve; she would try in every possible way to be like Melvina Lyon. She gave up so many of her out-of-door games that Mrs. Weston looked at her a little anxiously, fearing that the child might not be well. Every day Anna walked up the path to the church, and lingered about hoping for a glimpse of Melvina; but a week passed and the little girls did not meet.
At last the day came when Mr. Weston was58 ready to start for the forest to select the liberty tree; but, greatly to his surprise, Anna said that she did not wish to go, and he started off without her.
This was the first real sacrifice Anna had made toward becoming like Melvina. She was quite sure that Melvina would not go for a tramp in the forest. “It would spoil her clothes,” reflected Anna, and looked regretfully at her own stout gingham dress, wishing it could be changed and become like one of Melvina’s dresses of flounced linen.
“I would look more like her if I wore better dresses,” she decided.
“Mother, may I not wear my Sunday dress?” she asked eagerly. “I will not play any games, or hurt it. I will only walk as far as the church and back.”
For a moment Mrs. Weston hesitated. It seemed a foolish thing to let Anna wear her best dress on a week day; but the little girl had been so quiet and unhappy since the night of her adventure that her mother decided to allow her this privilege; and Anna ran up-stairs, and in a few minutes had put on her Sunday dress. It was a blue muslin with tiny white dots, and the neck59 and sleeves were edged with tiny white ruffles. It had been Rebecca’s best dress for several summers, until she outgrew it, and it was made over for the younger girl, but Anna was very proud of it, and stood on tiptoe to see herself reflected in the narrow mirror between the windows of the sitting-room. Her mother had made a sunbonnet of the same material as the dress, and Anna put this on with satisfaction. Always before this she had despised a sunbonnet, and never had she put it on of her own accord. But to-day she looked at it approvingly. “No one would know but that my hair is long, and braided, just like Melvina’s,” she thought as she walked slowly toward the kitchen.
“I will only walk to the church and straight back, Mother dear,” she said, “and then I will put on my gingham dress, and sew on my patchwork.”
“That’s a good girl. You look fine enough for a party,” responded her mother, and stood at the door watching Anna as she walked soberly down the path.
“I know not what has come over the child,” she thought, with a little sigh. “To be sure, she is more like other little girls, and perhaps it is60 well;” but Mrs. Weston sighed again, as if regretting her noisy, singing “Dan,” who seemed to have vanished forever.
When Anna reached the church she stood for a moment looking wistfully toward the parsonage. “If Mrs. Lyon could see me now she would not think me a tomboy,” thought Anna; and with the thought came a new inspiration: why should not Mrs. Lyon see her dressed as neatly as Melvina herself, and with the objectionable short hair hidden from sight?
“I will go and call,” decided Anna, her old courage returning; “and I will behave so well that Mrs. Lyon will ask me to come often and play with Melvina,” and, quite forgetting to walk quietly, she raced along the path in her old-time fashion until she was at the minister’s door. Then she rapped, and stood waiting, a little breathless, but smiling happily, quite sure that a little girl in so pretty a dress and so neat a sunbonnet would receive a warm welcome. Perhaps Mrs. Lyon would come to the door, she thought hopefully.
But it was Melvina herself who opened the door. Melvina, wearing a white dress and a long apron.61
For a moment the two little girls stood looking at each other in surprise. Then Melvina smiled radiantly. “Oh! It really is you, Anna! Come in. I am keeping house this afternoon, and nobody will know that you are here.”
“But I came to call on your mother. I wanted her to see me,” explained Anna.
But Melvina did not seem to notice this explanation. She took Anna’s hand and drew her into the house.
“Oh, Dan! wasn’t it fun to wade and run on the shore?” said Melvina eagerly, as the two girls entered the big pleasant kitchen. “I didn’t mind being wet or frightened or punished. Did you?”
“I wasn’t punished,” Anna responded meekly.
“I was. I was sent to bed without my supper for three nights; and I had to learn two tables of figures,” declared Melvina triumphantly. “But I didn’t care. For I have a splendid plan——” But before Melvina could say another word the kitchen door opened and Mrs. Lyon entered.
At first she did not recognize Anna, and smiled pleasantly at the neat, quiet little girl in the pretty dress and sunbonnet. “And who is this little maid?” she asked.62
“I am Anna Western,” Anna replied quickly, making a clumsy curtsy.
Mrs. Lyon’s smile vanished. She thought to herself that Anna had taken advantage of her absence to steal into the house, perhaps to entice Melvina for some rough game out-of-doors.
“I came to call,” Anna continued bravely, her voice faltering a little. “I wanted to say I was sorry for being mischievous.”
Mrs. Lyon’s face softened, and she noticed approvingly that Anna’s short curly locks were covered by the sunbonnet, and that she was dressed in her best; but she was still a little doubtful.
“Well, Anna, I am glad indeed that you are so right-minded. It is most proper that you should be sorry. I doubt not that your good parents punished you severely for your fault,” said Mrs. Lyon. But she did not ask Anna to sit down, or to remove her sunbonnet. Melvina looked from Anna to her mother, not knowing what to say.
“I think I must go now,” said Anna, almost ready to cry. “Good-bye, Melvina; good-afternoon, Mrs. Lyon,” and making another awkward curtsy Anna turned toward the door.63
“Oh, Danna! Don’t go,” called Melvina, running toward her; but Mrs. Lyon’s firm hand held her back.
“Good-afternoon, Anna! I hope you will grow into a good and obedient girl,” she said kindly.
Anna’s tears now came thick and fast. She could hardly see the path as she stumbled along. But if she could have heard Melvina’s words as her mother held her back from the kitchen door, she would have felt that her visit had been worth while. For Melvina had exclaimed, greatly to Mrs. Lyon’s dismay: “Oh, Mother! Ask her to come again. For I want to be exactly like Danna, and do all the things she does.”
Luretta Foster, coming down the path, stopped short and stared at Anna in amazement. It was surprising enough to see Anna dressed as if ready for church, but to see her in tears was almost unbelievable.
“What is the matter, Danna?” she asked, coming close to her little friend’s side, and endeavoring to peer under the sunbonnet. “Would not your father let you go with him to the forest?”
Anna made no answer, and when Luretta put64 a friendly arm about her shoulders, she drew a little away.
“Do not cry, Dan. My brother Paul has gone to the forest with your father, and he promised to bring me home a rabbit to tame for a pet. I will give it to you, Dan,” said Luretta.
For a moment Anna forgot her troubles. “Will you, truly, Luretta?” and she pushed back her sunbonnet that she might see her friend more clearly.
“Yes, I will. And I will give you a nice box with slats across the top, and a little door at the end that Paul made yesterday for the rabbit to live in,” Luretta promised generously. “I do not suppose Melvina Lyon would know a rabbit from a wolf,” she continued laughingly, quite sure that Anna would suggest asking Melvina to come and see their tame wolf. But Anna did nothing of the sort.
“Melvina knows more than any girl in this settlement,” Anna replied quickly. “She can do sums in fractions, and she can embroider, and make cakes. And she is brave, too.”
“Why, Dan Weston! And only last week you made fun of her, and said that all those things were of no account,” exclaimed Luretta.65
For a moment the two little friends walked on in silence, and then Anna spoke.
“Luretta, I’ll tell you something. I am going to try to be exactly like Melvina Lyon. Everybody praises her, and your mother and mine are always saying that she is well-behaved. And I am going to let my hair grow long and be well-behaved. But don’t tell anyone,” Anna added quickly, “for I want Mrs. Lyon to find it out first of all.”
“Oh, Dan! And won’t you make funny rhymes any more? Or play on the timber-rafts—or—or—anything?” asked Luretta.
“I don’t believe there is any harm in making rhymes. It’s something you can’t help,” responded Anna thoughtfully. “And Parson Lyon has written a book,” she added quickly, as if that in some way justified her jingles.
“I don’t want you to be different, Dan!” declared Luretta.
Anna stopped and looked at her friend reproachfully. “Well, Luretta Foster, I am surprised!” she said, and then clasping Luretta’s hand she started to run down the path, saying: “Let’s hurry, so I can take off this dress; then we will walk a little way toward the forest to see66 if Father and Paul are coming. Will you truly; give me the rabbit if Paul captures one?”
“Yes, I will,” promised Luretta; but she began to wish that she had not suggested such a thing. If Danna was going to be exactly like Melvina Lyon, thought Luretta, a rabbit would not receive much attention.
Rebecca was sitting on the front step busy with her knitting as the two little girls came up the path. It was her birthday, but so far no one had seemed to remember it. The Polly had not reached port, so the fine present she had been promised could not be expected. But Rebecca was surprised and disappointed that everyone had seemed to forget that she was fourteen on the tenth of May. But as she looked up and saw Anna dressed in her best, and Luretta beside her, coming up the path, Rebby’s face brightened. “I do believe Mother has planned a surprise for me,” she thought happily. “Oh, there comes Lucia! Now I am sure that Mother has asked her to come, and perhaps some of the other girls,” and Rebecca put down her knitting and stood up, smiling at the girls expectantly, for she was quite sure that their first words would be a birthday greeting.67
At that moment Mrs. Weston, busy in her kitchen, remembered suddenly that it was September tenth. “My Rebby’s birthday! And, with my mind full of all the worry about being shut off from the world by British cruisers, and provisions growing so scarce, I had forgotten,” and Mrs. Weston left her work and reached the front door just as Rebecca rose to her feet to greet her friends.
“Fourteen to-day, Rebby dear,” said Mrs. Weston, putting her arm about her tall daughter and kissing Rebecca.
At the same moment, hearing her mother’s words, Anna ran forward calling out: “Rebby is fourteen to-day.”
Luretta and Lucia were close behind her, and Rebecca found herself the centre of a smiling happy group, and for the moment quite forgot that she must do without the present from Boston that her father had promised her.