Anne held Rose’s hand very tightly as they walked along. It seemed to the little girl that all the people of the town were out walking up and down the streets. Now and then there would be a clatter of hoofs over the cobblestone pavements and Anne would look up to see a man go by on horseback. And Mrs. Freeman told her to notice a fine coach drawn by two horses, that stood in front of the very shop they were about to enter.

“If I spend a guinea for clothes will it not be enough?” Anne questioned, as Mrs. Freeman asked a smiling clerk to show them blue dimity.

“Why, yes, Anne; I think we can manage very nicely with a guinea,” responded Mrs. Freeman, who meant to supply Anne with many needful things from her own stores. “Do you wish to save one?”

Anne shook her head. “No,” she responded, “but I want to buy a grand present for Aunt Martha and Uncle Enos, and something for Amanda Cary. I should like to take Amos and the Starkweather children something, but I fear there will not be enough money.”

Mrs. Freeman smiled at Anne’s thought for her playmates. “You can perhaps make something for some of your little friends. Would not the Starkweather children like a little work-bag or a hemstitched handkerchief?” she asked.

The thought of the Starkweather boys with work-bags and hemstitched handkerchiefs seemed very funny to Anne, and she gave a little laugh, saying, “But they are all boys.”

“Oh, well, then we will make some fine candy just before you go home, and you and Rose can make some pretty boxes to put it in. So there’s your present for the Starkweather boys. And you’ll have a whole guinea to buy gifts for Mrs. Stoddard and the captain, and for Amanda. I suppose Amanda is your dearest friend, isn’t she?” and Mrs. Freeman looked down into Anne’s happy smiling face, quite sure that Mrs. Stoddard must be very glad that she had taken the little girl into her own home.

“Best friend, indeed!” exclaimed Rose, before Anne could answer. “Why, mother! Had it not been for that Amanda, Anne never would have run away.”

“But Anne wants to take her a present,” said Mrs. Freeman.

A little flush crept into Anne’s brown cheeks. “I guess Amanda didn’t mean to,” she said.

The clerk was waiting patiently, and Mrs. Freeman now begged his pardon for so long delaying her purchases, and ordered enough dimity for Anne’s dress. It was a light blue with a tiny white sprig, and Anne thought it the prettiest pattern that any one could imagine.

“I have plenty of nainsook in the house for your underwear, so we will not purchase that,” said Mrs. Freeman, “but we will buy some good white cotton yarn so that I can make up some stockings for you. It will make work for you at odd times.” For in those days children were taught that useful occupation brought as much pleasure as play, and every girl had “pieced a quilt” before she was ten years of age, worked a sampler, and usually knit all her own stockings and mittens.

“Can’t Anne have some thread gloves like mine?” Rose asked, and Anne drew a quick breath of delight. “White thread gloves,” she thought to herself, would be more than she could hope for, but Mrs. Freeman seemed to think it a very reasonable request, and told Rose to go with Anne to a shop on Queen Street and select a pair of gloves.

“I must go home now,” she added, “for it is Saturday, and I have much to do. After you have purchased the gloves you girls can walk up to the Common if you wish; but be sure and be home in good season for dinner.”

The girls both promised, and Mrs. Freeman left them, with a word of caution to be careful in crossing Long-acre Street, where there were always many teams, carriages and horsemen going back and forth.

“You are almost a young lady, aren’t you, Rose?” Anne said admiringly, as she looked up at her friend.

“I suppose so,” Rose replied laughingly. “See, my skirts come to my ankles, and Aunt Hetty said I must twist my braids around my head now. And I think it does become me better,” and Rose put up her white-gloved hand to be quite sure that the braids were smoothly fastened.

The girls walked along the Mall, and a little way toward the Charles River. Rose met several girls of her own age who greeted Anne pleasantly. One of them asked Rose if she knew that a messenger had reached Boston with a copy of the Declaration of Independence. “It is to be read from the balcony of the State House on Tuesday,” said Rose’s friend. “’Twill be a great day, and ’tis well you have reached Boston in time for it.”

When Anne and Rose reached the Freeman house little Millicent was at the door waiting for them. She had a big doll in her arms and told Anne that its name was “Hetty,” because Aunt Hetty Freeman had made it and sent it to her. Frederick had hung the wasp’s nest in his own room, and declared that there was not another boy in Boston who possessed one. Several of his friends had already seen it, and Frederick was quite sure that he was a very fortunate boy to have it for his own.

On Sunday morning Anne was awakened by the sound of the bells of Christ Church, which was not far distant from the Freemans’ house. She lay listening to the musical notes, and wondering if those could really be church-bells.

“They sound like far-off voices singing,” she thought to herself. And when Mrs. Freeman, at breakfast time, told her that there were eight bells, and that they came all the way from Gloucester, England, in 1745, and were the first ring of bells in North America, they seemed even more wonderful to the little girl.

“William Shirley was Governor of Massachusetts at that time,” said Mr. Freeman, “and when the bells reached Boston it was found that there was no money in the church treasury to raise them to the church belfry, and just then Boston had the good news that the colonial forces under General Pepperell had captured Louisburg. Well, every bell in Boston was ringing with triumph, and it did not take long to start a subscription and get money enough to put those fine bells where they could be heard. They were made by good English bell-makers, and there are none better,” concluded Mr. Freeman. Anne thought to herself that she would be sure to remember about these wonderful bells so that she could tell Amanda.

On the morning of the 18th of July people began to gather in King Street and the vicinity of the State House, so that long before one o’clock, the time advertised when the Declaration of Independence was to be read, there was a crowd. Mr. and Mrs. Freeman with Millicent, Frederick, Rose and Anne had a very good place where they could see the little balcony where Colonel Crafts was to stand.

“Look, father! There are some of the British officers!” said Frederick.

The crowd near where the Freemans were standing stood courteously back to make way for several British officers in full military dress. They secured a place where they could hear well, and Mr. Freeman and several gentlemen exchanged smiles of satisfaction to see these officers present. When the clock struck one, Colonel Crafts, surrounded by a number of gentlemen, appeared on the balcony, and in a clear voice read the declaration announcing to the world that the American colonies were no longer subject to Britain.

What a chorus of shouts and huzzas filled the air! Frederick’s cap went so high that it lodged on the State House balcony, but no one seemed to notice it, and Frederick could not recover his property until late that afternoon. There sounded the measured boom of cannon, and thirteen volleys of musketry. A military band played, and the people dispersed, quietly, and as if they had taken part in a great ceremony, as indeed they had.

“Now you girls will have to settle down; dresses do not make themselves,” said Mrs. Freeman; “nor do stockings grow on trees. Your father’s ship will be coming into harbor before you know it, Anne; and you must have your clothing in order, and Rose has agreed to help you. So to-morrow we must begin in earnest.”

“I have a chance to send the black colt to Mr. Pierce to-morrow,” said Mr. Freeman, “and I have bought a good side-saddle for Mrs. Pierce, that they may know we do not forget their great kindness.”

“That is the very thing, father!” exclaimed Rose. “Now Aunt Anne Rose can ride to the village and see her friends whenever she wishes. She will not be so lonely.”

“I thought of that,” said Mr. Freeman.

“You girls must make up a little package for the colt to carry to your new aunt,” suggested Mrs. Freeman.

Anne had her golden guinea and several shillings besides in a pretty knit purse that Rose had given her, and she was very happy to think that, out of her very own money, she could buy something for Aunt Anne Rose.

“I know what she’d like,” said Anne. “I told her about the fine book that my Aunt Martha keeps in the chest. ’Tis called ’Pilgrim’s Progress.’ And Aunt Anne Rose said that if she had a book to read at times ’twould be as good as company.”

“You girls shall step into Mistress Mason’s and select a suitable book,” said Mrs. Freeman. “You can write her name in it and put ‘From Anne and Rose to Aunt Anne Rose’; no doubt ’twill please her. And this evening we will make some sweets to send her. We wish her to be very sure that we do not lack in gratitude.”

Mistress Mason’s shop in Cornhill seemed a very wonderful place to Anne, with its shelves filled with bright pewter, tall brass candlesticks, and large and small boxes. On a lower shelf at the back of the small room was a row of books. On a narrow counter stood boots, shoes, and slippers. Above this counter, fastened to a stout cord, were hung a number of dolls dressed in the latest fashion. Each one of these dolls had a small white card fastened to its sleeve.

When the girls entered they did not at first see any one in the shop, but in a moment Anne noticed that a very tiny old lady was standing behind the further counter.

“Why, she isn’t any bigger than I am!” thought the little girl.

“Good-afternoon, Mistress Mason,” said Rose; “this is my friend, little Anne Nelson, from Province Town.”

“Not so very little, as I view it. Fully as large as I am myself. I should call her large; that is, large for a girl,” responded the little white-haired woman, who was rather sensitive in regard to her size. “I see you wear good shoes,” she continued, peering over the low counter and pointing a tiny finger toward Anne’s feet. “I know my own shoes when I see ’em,” and she laughed pleasantly. “My brother makes every shoe I sell; makes ’em right back here in his own shop, as Miss Rose Freeman well knows.”

“Yes, indeed,” answered Rose, “and Mistress Mason makes dolls, Anne—all those fine ones near the door.”

“All but the ones with china heads; I make only bodies for the heads. The china heads come from France and cost me dear. But they are good bodies, as you can see, my dears; with joints where joints should be, and with feet and hands of soft kid. ’Tis some work, I do assure you, young ladies, to stitch fingers and toes as fingers and toes should be stitched,” and Mistress Mason looked very serious indeed. “And as for making dolls with kid-covered heads, and then painting their faces and giving a good expression to eyes and mouths, I do feel that it’s almost beyond me. I do indeed!”

The little old lady trotted briskly across the shop and unfastening several dolls from the line held them toward her visitors. “Now here is Lady Melissa Melvina,” and Anne saw that on each of the white cards was written the name belonging to the doll on whose sleeve the card was pinned. “Lady Melissa Melvina is all kid,” went on Mistress Mason, “head, body, feet and fingers; and every stitch she wears is of the best. She’s worth twenty shillings. But——!” and Mistress Mason made an impressive pause and shook her head. “Could I get that amount? No. So, though ’tis far too little, you may have her for ten shillings six,” and she smiled as if she were really bestowing a gift upon them.

“We did not come to buy a doll, Mistress Mason, although I’m sure Anne would like greatly to have so fine a doll as this; but we want to purchase a book,” said Rose.

The little old woman was evidently disappointed. “A book, indeed,” she responded. “I know not what is coming to people. Everybody, even the very children, are asking for books. We can hardly keep our shelf neatly filled, and I have half a mind not to keep them. Many a person who should buy a stout pair of shoes puts the money in books,” and she shook her head as if not understanding such folly.

“’Tis for a present,” responded Rose, as if to excuse their purchase, “to a lady who lives in the country and is much alone.”

“I see; well, maybe such folk find company in reading,” said the shopkeeper. “Here is a book may please her,” and she took up a thin volume and opened it. “’Tis a book of verse, but ’tis well thought of. I see but little sense in verse myself; but, for verse, this reads well:

she read, and went on to a second couplet:

“And I declare here is what I’ve always said of poetry. ’Tis as true as I make good dolls:

“I think Aunt Anne Rose would like ‘Pilgrim’s Progress,’” Anne ventured, a little timidly, to suggest.

“Maybe. I have a fine copy. Not too large, and easy to read. ’Twill cost five shillings,” and Mistress Mason put back the book of verse and took from the shelf a small square book that she handed to Rose.

The girls looked it over carefully. “But it is not like Aunt Martha’s book,” said Anne; “’tis not so large, nor has it such fine pictures. These pictures are little and black.”

“It tells the same story,” Rose assured her, “and I know it would please Aunt Anne Rose. It will cost us two and six, sixty-two cents, apiece.”

They decided to purchase it, and Mistress Mason wrapped it up in a neat package for them, and said that she hoped they would step in again. She followed them to the door, and Rose and Anne both bowed very politely as they wished her good-day.