CHAPTER XIII
ANNE'S BOOK
"Rose," said Anne, as soon as they left the little shop, "I know what Ishall buy for Aunt Martha; I shall buy her one of those fine pewterdishes."
"So you can! It will be sure to please her," replied Rose, lookingkindly down at her little friend. "You are always thinking of givingpeople things, aren't you, Anne? My Grandmother Freeman, who lived inWellfleet, used to say that it was a sign that a child would grow upprosperous and happy if it had the spirit to give instead of to take."
When the girls went up the brick walk to the Freeman house they sawFrederick and a number of small boys in the yard. Frederick was standingon a box with a paper in his hand, from which he was reading, and he andhis companions were so interested that they did not notice the girls.
"He's playing that he's Colonel Crafts reading the Declaration," Rosewhispered to Anne, as they opened the front door, and entered the house."Fred has made believe everything that has happened here in Boston forthe last two years."
"It's warm weather for candy-making," said Mrs. Freeman, as the familygathered at the supper table in the cool pleasant dining-room, "butCaroline is going to see her mother this evening, so you children canhave the kitchen, and you will not have another opportunity for a longtime to send Aunt Anne Rose any remembrance."
The children all declared that it was not too warm for candy-making, andas soon as Caroline, a young woman who helped Mrs. Freeman and Rose withthe household work, gave them permission Rose, Anne, Millicent andFrederick went into the kitchen. Rose opened a deep drawer in a chestwhich stood in one corner of the room.
"Look, Anne," she said, and Anne peered in, exclaiming:
"Why, it's filled with little boxes!"
"Yes," said Rose, picking up one shaped like a heart; "stormy days,and sometimes in winter evenings, when I do not feel like knitting orsewing, I make boxes out of heavy paper or cardboard, and cover themwith any bits of pretty paper or cloth that I can get. Frederick helpsme. He can make even better ones than I can, and Millicent helps too,"and she smiled down at the little sister who stood close beside Anne.
"Let's send Aunt Anne Rose the heart-shaped box," said Anne.
"And fill it with heart-shaped taffy," added Frederick, running toward ashelf filled with pans and kettles of various shapes and sizes, andtaking down a box. "See, we have little shapes for candy," and he openedthe box and took out some tiny heart-shaped pans, and dishes shaped inrounds and stars and crescents.
"My!" exclaimed Anne, "and can you make the candies in these?"
"No!" and Frederick's voice was a little scornful. "We have to boil itin a kettle, of course; then we grease the inside of these little panswith butter and turn the candy into them, and when it cools we tip themout, and there they are. Fine as any you can buy, aren't they, Rose?"
"Yes, indeed, and Frederick knows just how to take them out withoutbreaking the candy. He is more careful than I am," said Rose, who lostno opportunity of praising her little brother and sister, and who neverseemed to see any fault in them.
"Molasses taffy is the best," declared Frederick, "but you can make somesugared raisins, can't you, Rose?"
"We'll have to be very careful in putting the candy in the boxes so thatit will not melt," said Rose.
Before it was time to pack the candy Mrs. Freeman came into the kitchenand untied a bundle to show the children what it contained.
"It's lovely, mother!" exclaimed Rose, lifting up a little fleecyshoulder cape of lavender wool. "Why, it's the one you knit foryourself!" and she looked at her mother questioningly.
"It seemed all I had that was pretty enough to send Mrs. Pierce,"replied Mrs. Freeman.
"But she lives way off in that lonesome place where she never seespretty things. She'd be pleased with anything," said Rose, who almostwished that her mother would keep the pretty shawl.
"That's why I want to send this to her," responded Mrs. Freeman. "If shehad all sorts of nice things I wouldn't do it; I'd just send her a cakewith my love."
"Send the cake, too," said Mr. Freeman, who had followed his wife. "Sendthe cake with my love."
"Why, so I will," said Mrs. Freeman. "Caroline made two excellent loavesof spice cake this very day and we can well spare one of them. But youchildren must trot off to bed. It's been a very exciting day."
Little Millicent was quite ready for bed, but neither Anne nor Rose wassleepy, and Rose followed her little friend into her room.
"See how clear the night is, Anne," she said, looking out of the windowtoward the harbor. "The water looks like a mirror."
Anne came and stood beside her. Her thoughts traveled across the smoothwaters to the little house in Province Town. "I shouldn't wonder if AuntMartha were looking out at the water and thinking about me," she said,drawing a little nearer to the tall girl beside her. "I wish she knewhow good everybody is to me."
Rose put her arm about the little girl. "She expects everybody to begood to you, Anne," she responded; "but I have thought of something thatyou can do for Mrs. Stoddard that I am sure will please her, and will besomething that she will always like to keep."
"What is it, Rose?" and Anne's voice was very eager.
"Let's sit down here on the window-seat, and I'll tell you. You havelearned to write, haven't you, Anne?"
"Not very well," confessed the little girl.
"All the better, for what I want you to do will teach you to write asneatly as possible. I want you to write a book."
"A book!" Anne's voice expressed so much surprise and even terror thatRose laughed aloud, but answered:
"Why, yes, and you must call it 'Anne Nelson's Book,' and you must beginit by telling what Amanda Cary did to you, and how you believed thatMrs. Stoddard would be glad if you went away. And then you can write allyour journey, about the Indians, the house in the woods, Aunt Anne Rose,and all that you see and do in Boston."
"I haven't any paper," said Anne, as if that settled the question.
"I have a fine blank book, every page ruled, that will be just thething," responded Rose, "and I will help you write it. I can draw alittle, and I have a box of water-colors. I will make little pictureshere and there so that Mrs. Stoddard can see the places."
"Oh, Rose! That will be fine. Shall we begin the book to-morrow?"
Anne was soon in bed, but there were so many wonderful things to thinkof that she lay long awake.
The Freeman household rose at an early hour. After breakfast Mrs.Freeman said: "Now, Anne, we will make believe that you are my ownlittle girl, and I will tell you what to do to help me, just as I doRose. You see," she added with a little laugh, "that I am likeFrederick. I like to play that all sorts of pleasant things are reallytrue."
Anne smiled back. "I like to make-believe, too," she said.
"Then we'll begin right now. You can help Rose put the chambers inorder, and dust the dining-room. After that Rose can show you theattic, if you want to see where the children play on stormy days, or youmay do whatever you please."
"The attic will be the very place for Anne to write her book," saidRose, and told her mother of their plan.
It was a very happy morning for Anne. Rose tied a big white apron aroundher neck, gave her a duster of soft cloth, and showed her just how tomake a bed neatly, and put a room in order. Then, when the work wasfinished, the girls went up the narrow stairs to the attic, a longunfinished room running the whole length of the house with windows ateach end. Under one of these windows stood a broad low table. Rose hadbrought up the blank book, a number of pens, made from goose-quills, anda bottle of ink. She put them on the table and drew up a high-backedwooden chair for Anne. "I'll sit in this rocking-chair at the end of thetable with my knitting," said Rose.
Anne looked about the attic, and thought that the Freeman children hadeverything in the world. There was a big wooden rocking-horse, purchasedfor Frederick, but now belonging to Millicent. There were boxes ofblocks, a row of dolls beside a trunk, a company of tin soldiers, andon a tiny table
was spread out a little china tea-set. It was ratherhard for Anne to turn away from all these treasures and sit down at thetable. She had never seen so many toys in all her life, and she thoughtshe would like to bring her own wooden doll, "Martha Stoddard," that herfather had made for her years ago, up to the attic to visit with thesebeautiful dolls of china, wax, and kid. But Rose had opened the book andstood beside the table waiting for Anne to sit down.
"How shall I begin?" questioned the little girl anxiously.
"Why, I'd begin just as if I were writing a letter," said Rose.
So Anne dipped the quill in the ink, and, with her head on one side, andher lips set very firmly together, carefully wrote: "My dear AuntMartha."
Rose looked over her shoulder. "That is written very neatly, Anne," shesaid.
"Don't you want to make a picture now, Rose?" said the little girlhopefully.
Rose laughed at Anne's pleading look, but drew the book toward her endof the table, and taking a pencil from her box of drawing materialsmade a little sketch, directly under Anne's written words, of a littlegirl at a table writing, and pushed the book back toward Anne.
"Now I will knit while you write," she said.
So Anne again dipped the quill into the ink, and wrote: "This is apicture of me beginning to write a book. Rose made it." The attic wasvery quiet, the sound of Anne's pen, and of Rose's knitting-needlescould be heard, and for a little time there was no other sound; thencame a clatter of stout shoes on the stairway, and little Millicentappeared.
"See, I found this in Anne's room!" she exclaimed.
Anne looked around, and saw Millicent holding up her beloved "MarthaStoddard." With a quick exclamation she sprang up and ran toward her."That's my doll," she exclaimed, and would have taken it, but Millicentheld it tightly exclaiming:
"I want it!"
Anne stood looking at the child not knowing what to do. This doll wasthe dearest of her possessions. She had given her beautiful coralbeads to the Indian girl, and now Millicent had taken possession of herdoll. She tried to remember that she was a big girl now, ten years old,and that dolls were for babies like six-year-old Millicent. But "MarthaStoddard" was something more than a plaything to Anne; she could notpart with it. But how could she take it away from the little girl?
"I want it," repeated Millicent, looking up at Anne with a pretty smile,as if quite sure that Anne would be glad to give it to her. Anne put herhands over her face and began to cry.