“IT is Mr. Lyon’s suggestion,” concluded Mrs. Lyon, “and Melvina is eager to come and live with you, Mrs. Weston, if Anna is ready to come to me.”

Mrs. Lyon, it seemed to Anna, had been talking a long time. She had said that Melvina was not very strong, and that possibly she was kept too much indoors; and then had come the astounding suggestion that, on the very next day, Anna should go and live with the minister and his wife, and Melvina should come and take her place.

“Oh, do, Anna! Say you will,” Melvina whispered, as the two little girls found a chance to speak together while their mothers discussed the plan. For Melvina was sure that if she came to live in Anna’s home she would become exactly like Anna; as brave and as independent, and who could tell but what she might grow to look like her as well!122

The same thought came to Anna. Of course, if she lived with Mrs. Lyon she would learn to behave exactly like Melvina. But to go away from her father and mother and from Rebby; this seemed hardly to be possible.

“Do you want me to go, Mother?” she asked, half hoping that her mother might say at once that it was not to be thought of.

“I must talk with your father; ’tis a great opportunity for your good, and I am sure he will be pleased,” replied Mrs. Weston. For had not the Reverend Mr. Lyon written a book, and, it was rumored, composed music for hymns; for any little girl to live in his family would be a high privilege. And this was what Mr. Weston thought when he heard of the plan.

“Why, it is a wise scheme indeed,” he said gravely; “my little Danna is being too much favored at home, and to be with the minister and his wife will teach her as much as a term in school.”

“But I am not to stay long, Father. I am only to stay for two weeks,” said Anna, “and you must not learn to think Melvina is your little girl.”

“Mr. Lyon wishes Melvina to run about as123 freely as we have allowed Anna,” Mrs. Weston explained, “and to have no lessons or tasks of any kind, and to spend an hour each afternoon at home while Anna does the same.”

“But I am to have lessons, just as if I were Melvina,” Anna declared, and before bedtime it was decided that on the next day Anna should go to the minister’s to remain a fortnight.

Rebecca was the only one who did not think well of the plan. “I do not want Danna to go,” she said over and over; and added that she should not know how to treat Melvina, or what to say to her. It was Rebecca who went with Anna to Mr. Lyon, carrying the small package containing Anna’s clothing, and she brought back Melvina’s carefully packed basket. Mrs. Lyon looked worried and anxious as she saw Melvina start off for the Westons’; but she gave her no cautions or directions, beyond telling her to be obedient to Mrs. Weston. Then she took Anna’s hand and led her up-stairs to the pleasant room where she and Melvina had played so happily with the rabbits.

“You can leave your sunbonnet here, Anna, and then come down to the library. This is the hour for your lesson in English history.”124

“‘English history,’” Anna repeated to herself excitedly. She wondered what it could mean. But if it was something that Melvina did she was eager to begin.

Mr. Lyon smiled down at his little visitor as she curtsied in the doorway. He hoped his own little daughter might return with eyes as bright and cheeks as glowing.

“This is where Melvina sits for her study hour,” he said, pointing to a small chair near a side window. There was a table in front of the chair, and on the table was spread a brightly colored map.

“To-day we are to discover something of the English opinion of Americans,” began Mr. Lyon, taking up a small book. “It is always wise to know the important affairs of the time in which we live, is it not, Anna?” he said thoughtfully.

“Yes, sir,” responded Anna seriously, sitting very straight indeed and feeling of greater consequence than ever before.

“America’s great trouble now, remember, is taxation without representation,” continued the minister; “and now listen carefully to what an Englishman has to say of it: ‘While England125 contends for the right of taxing America we are giving up substance for the shadow; we are exchanging happiness for pride. If we have no regard for America, let us at least respect the mother country. In a dispute with America who would we conquer? Ourselves. Everything that injures America is injurious to Great Britain, and we commit a kind of political suicide when we endeavor to crush them into obedience.’

“Ah! There is still wisdom in the English council; but I fear it is too late,” said Mr. Lyon, as if speaking his thoughts aloud. “And now, my child, what is the subject of our lesson?” he questioned, looking kindly at Anna.

“England and America,” she replied promptly.

Mr. Lyon nodded. “And why does America firmly resolve not to be unjustly taxed?” he asked.

“Because it wouldn’t be right,” said Anna confidently.

Mr. Lyon was evidently pleased by her direct answers.

“If an Englishman sees the injustice of his government it is small wonder that every American, even to a little girl, can see that it is not to be borne,” said Mr. Lyon, rising and pacing up126 and down the narrow room, his thoughts full of the great conflict that had already begun between England and her American colonies.

Anna’s eyes turned toward the map. There was a long yellow strip marked “American Colonies,” then, lower down, a number of red blots and circles with “The West Indies” printed across them. Far over on the end of the map was a queerly shaped green object marked “Asia” and below it a beautiful blue place called “Europe.” Anna was so delighted and interested in discovering France, and Africa, the Ægean Sea, and the British Isles, that she quite forgot where she was. But as she looked at the very small enclosure marked “England,” and then at the long line of America she suddenly exclaimed: “America need not be afraid.”

Mr. Lyon had seated himself at his desk, and at the sound of Anna’s voice he looked up in surprise.

“Why, child! You have been so quiet I had forgot............