For a long time the little girl sat silent and 36 sorrowful where he had left her. She had forgotten all about the little brown cow; her wooden doll lay neglected on the grass 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 molasses over it?”

Anne nodded soberly. Molasses was not to 37 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