The next morning proved warm and pleasant with only a light breeze, but Captain Enos had his sloop ready at an early hour, and when Anne, with Mr. Freeman and Rose, came down to the wharf he was anxious to start at once.

Anne still wore the blue cape, which Mrs. Freeman had insisted on giving her, and the hat was in a round pasteboard box, which Anne carried carefully, and which was put away in the cabin with Aunt Martha’s new shawl and the cloth for Anne’s new dress.

As the sloop sailed away from the wharf Anne waved her hand to Rose Freeman until she could no longer see her. Captain Enos watched the little girl anxiously; he was half afraid that Anne might be disappointed because she could not stay with her father, but her face was bright and smiling.

“Where is the packet your father handed you?” Captain Enos questioned eagerly, as soon as his sloop was clear of the wharf.

“I have it pinned safe inside my frock,” she answered. “Shall I give it to you now, Uncle Enos?”

“Maybe ’Tis safer with you, Anne,” replied the captain. “It may be that some British boat will overhaul us, and question us. I’m doing an errand, Anne, for your father. If this boat is taken and I am made a prisoner, you are to say that you want to go to Newburyport. That and no more. Mayhap they’ll set you ashore there. Then make your way to Squire Coffin’s house as best you may. Give him the packet. Tell him the story, and he’ll find a way to reach your father. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Uncle Enos,” said Anne very soberly.

“Repeat what I have told you, that I may be sure,” said Captain Enos, and Anne obeyed.

“But I do not want to be set ashore in a strange place,” she said soberly. “How should I get back to Province Town?”

“You will be taken care of, never fear,” responded Captain Enos, “and you’ll be doing a good service to the cause of liberty, Anne, if you carry the papers safely. Your Aunt Martha will indeed be proud of you. Remember what I have told you. But I hope to slip in behind Plum Island and make a landing without being seen. The wind is favoring us. You have had a fine visit, Anne?”

“Yes, indeed!” agreed the little girl, “and I have a present for Aunt Martha,” she said, as the sloop ran out among the islands. “See, my father gave me this for her,” and she held up a gold coin. “Will she not be pleased?”

“But she will be better pleased to have you safe home again,” said Captain Enos. “What do you think Amanda Cary will say when she hears of your voyage to Boston and of all the fine things you have seen there? ’Tis not many of the children in Province Town have ever taken such a journey.”

“She will think it a better voyage than the one we took to House Point Island,” answered Anne. “I have something for Amanda, too. Rose Freeman gave me a package of barley sugar, and I said to myself I would take it home to Amanda.”

Captain Enos kept a watchful eye for suspicious looking craft. But his course lay well inshore, and he was apparently not noticed by any of the vessels. Before noon he was cruising along the Ipswich shore, and made his landing at Newburyport without having been spoken.

“The worst part of the business is before us,” he said to Anne, as he made the boat fast. “If I leave the boat here, I may come back and find no trace of her, but leave her I must, or Squire Coffin will wait in vain for the papers.”

“But I can carry them,” said Anne. “Tell me where to go, and I’ll come straight back and say no word of my errand.”

“’Tis the best possible way. Did I not say that you were a wise child!” declared Captain Enos, his face beaming with delight. “Put on your pretty hat and cape, and follow that lane up to the main road. Then ask for Squire Coffin’s house of the first person you meet.”

In a few moments Anne was ready to start. As she walked up the lane Captain Enos’s eyes followed her anxiously. “I can see no danger in it for the child,” he said aloud, and then, sailor fashion, set about putting his boat in order.

“’twill be a cold night, but the cabin will be snug and warm,” he thought. “I’ll get out of here before sunset and maybe make Province Town by daybreak.”

Anne walked up the pleasant lane. Her feet sank deep in the leaves from the overarching trees, and made a cheerful, crackling sound. She could see the roofs of houses not far away, and as she turned from the lane into a road she met two girls not much larger than herself. They looked at her curiously, and when Anne stopped they smiled in a friendly way.

“Would you please to tell me where I can find Squire Coffin?” Anne asked, feeling very brave and a little important.

“Squire Coffin is my uncle,” the larger of the two girls replied. “I’m going there now.”

“I have an errand,” Anne explained.

“Oh!” responded both the little girls, but Anne could see that they wondered who this strange little girl could be, and what her errand was.

“You may come with us if you want to,” Squire Coffin’s niece said, and Anne was very glad to walk with these silent little girls, for neither of them spoke again until they stopped in front of a tall, square white house very near the street. As Anne looked up at it she thought that she had never seen so many windows before in one house. “That’s Uncle Coffin on the porch,” explained his niece.

“Thank you,” said Anne, and as the two little girls politely curtseyed she endeavored to imitate them, and with apparent success. Then she went up the stone steps toward the dignified looking gentleman who stood in the doorway.

She held the packet under her cape, and as she came near him she whispered, as Captain Enos had told her to do, “This is from Boston.”

“Great George!” he exclaimed grabbing the package, in what seemed a very rude manner to Anne, and putting it quickly in his pocket, “and how came you by it?”

But Anne remembered her promise to keep quiet, and she also remembered that the squire’s niece had made the queer little curtsey on saying good-bye. So Anne bobbed very prettily to the squire, and said “good-bye,” and ran down the steps, leaving the squire standing amazed. It was many weeks before he learned the name of the little maid, and that her home was in Province Town.

It was an easy matter to find her way back to the lane. There was an orchard just at the corner of the road, and a man was gathering apples. “Want an apple?” he called.

“Yes, sir,” answered Anne, and now, being rather proud of her new accomplishment, she curtseyed very politely.

“Well, well, you are a young lady, miss. Come up to the fence and I’ll hand you the apples.” Anne obeyed, and the good-natured man gave her two big red-cheeked apples. They seemed very wonderful to the little girl from the sandy shore village, where apples were not often to be seen, and she thanked him delightedly.

Captain Enos was watching for her, and as soon as she was on board he swung the sloop clear of the wharf, ran up his mainsail and headed toward the outer channel. As they looked back at the little wharf they saw a tall man come running down the lane.

“I reckon that’s the squire,” chuckled Captain Enos.

“Yes, it is,” said Anne.

“Well, now for Province Town. I guess we’ve helped a little bit, Anne. At least you have.”

Anne was eating one of the big red apples, and thinking about Squire Coffin’s big house and small niece.

“We’ll tell Aunt Martha all that’s happened,” went on Captain Enos, “but do not speak to any one else of it, Anne. ’Twould make trouble for your father and for me if our trip to Newburyport was known.”

“I’ll not speak of it,” Anne promised.

“It has been a good trip,” said Captain Enos. “Mr. Freeman paid me well for the fish. I have a keg of molasses in the cabin, which will be welcome news for Martha.”

As they came into harbor at sunrise next morning and Captain Enos dropped anchor and lowered the big mainsail, Anne looked eagerly toward the shore. She could see Jimmie Starkweather and his father watching them. After Captain Enos had lowered the keg of molasses into the dory, and put in the box that held Anne’s hat, and the other packages, he helped Anne over the side of the sloop to a seat in the bow of the dory.

As soon as the boat touched the shore Jimmie and his father ran down to help draw it up on the beach. Jimmie looked at Captain Enos as if he half expected a scolding, but as soon as Captain Enos landed he patted the boy’s shoulder kindly, and said:

“The little maid has told me all about it. You were not greatly to blame, Jimmie. And the trip turned out all right.”

“I saw my father,” said Anne, and then ran away toward home, leaving Captain Enos to tell of the visit to Boston.

Aunt Martha had seen the sloop come to anchor, and was waiting at the door to welcome Anne.

“Uncle Enos and I have a secret with my father,” Anne whispered to Mrs. Stoddard, “and we have been to Newburyport.” And then the story of the wonderful trip was told, and Anne showed Mrs. Stoddard how she had curtseyed to the squire.

“Well! Well!” exclaimed the good woman in amazement. “It does seem as if you had all sorts of adventures, Anne. To think of Enos undertaking such a thing. I’m proud of you both. ’twill be a fine story to tell your grandchildren, Anne. How you carried news from Boston patriots to Newburyport. But do not speak of it till we are through with all these troublous days.” And again Anne promised to keep silent.

“To think you should run off like that, child,” continued Aunt Martha. “When Jimmie Starkweather came up and told me you were gone I could scarce believe him till I had climbed the stairs to the loft and found no trace of you. But I am right glad you wore your shoes and stockings. Where did the blue cape come from?”

By this time they were in the kitchen, and Anne had put down the box that held her hat.

“Mrs. Freeman gave it to me,” she replied, “and see! I have a new hat!” and she opened the box and took out the pretty hat.

“I thought thy uncle would take thee straight to Mistress Freeman,” said Mrs. Stoddard.

“And we found my father,” went on Anne happily, “and he sent thee this,” and she drew the gold piece from her pocket and gave it to Mrs. Stoddard.

“Well, well,” said Aunt Martha, “’Tis a fine piece of money, and your father is kind to send it. I will use it well.”

“And Uncle Enos has fetched you a fine shawl and a keg of molasses,” said Anne. “You do not think there was great harm in my hiding in the sloop, Aunt Martha?” The little girl’s face was so troubled that Aunt Martha gave her another kiss, and said:

“It has turned out well, but thee must never do so again. Suppose a great storm had come up and swept the sloop from her moorings that night?”

“Rose Freeman looks just like a rose,” said Anne, feeling quite sure that Aunt Martha was not displeased; “and she walks so softly that you can hardly hear her, and she speaks softly, too. I am going to walk and speak just as she does.”

“That is right,” agreed Mrs. Stoddard. “I am sure that she is a well-spoken girl.”

When Captain Enos came up the hill toward home Anne had already put her blue cape and hat carefully away, and was sitting near the fire with the white kitten curled up in her lap.

“The Freemans do not eat in their kitchen,” said Anne, as they sat down to supper; “they eat in a square room with a shining floor, and where there is a high mantel-shelf with china images.”

“’Tis a fine house,” agreed Captain Enos, “well built of brick. ’twas a great thing for Anne to see it.”

“’Tis not so pleasant a house as this,” said Anne. “I could not see the harbor from any window, and the shore is not smooth and sandy like the shores of our harbor.”

Captain Enos smiled and nodded.

“That’s right, Anne,” he said; “Boston houses may do for town people, but we sailor-folk like our own best.”

“Yes, indeed!” replied Anne, “and I do not believe a beach-plum grows on their shore. And nothing I tasted there was so good as Aunt Martha’s meal bread.”

The next morning Anne started for school, wearing the new shoes and scarlet stockings and the little plaid shawl. The children were all anxious to hear about what she saw in Boston, and she told them of the soldiers on the Common, and of the shops, and of the houses made of brick and stone, and she showed Amanda how to make the wonderful curtsey. But Elder Haven soon called them to take their seats, and it was not until the noon recess that she found a chance to speak alone with Amanda.

The two little girls sat down on the front door-step of Elder Haven’s house, and Anne told of the wonderful sail to Boston, and had just begun to describe Rose Freeman when the teacher’s voice was heard calling them in.

As soon as school closed for the day, Amanda said that she could walk home with Anne and see the new cape and hat, and hear more about Rose Freeman.

“Would you like better to live in Boston than here?” asked Amanda, as they walked along.

Anne looked at her in surprise.

“Why, Amanda!” she said; “of course I wouldn’t. It is not seemly there to go out-of-doors without a hat; and Rose Freeman said that she had never been barefooted in her life. She has fine white stockings knit of cotton yarn for summer, and low shiny shoes that she called ‘slippers.’”

“’Twould be hard to wear shoes all the year,” agreed Amanda, looking down at her own stout leather shoes, “but I like them well now.”

“I brought you a present from Boston,” said Anne just as they reached the Stoddards’ door. “Rose Freeman gave it to me, and I saved it for you.”

“Well, Amanda,” said Mrs. Stoddard, as the two girls came into the kitchen, “are you not glad to have Anne safe home again? ’twas quite a journey to take.”

“She likes Province Town better than Boston,” answered Amanda smilingly.

“To be sure she does, and why not?” replied Mrs. Stoddard. “There are few places where there is so much salt water to be seen as here, and no better place for fishing. Now, Anne, I have a little surprise for you. I have asked Mr. and Mrs. Starkweather and their six boys to come up this evening, and your father and mother, Amanda, and you and Amos. The evenings are getting fine and long now and we must begin to be neighborly.”

“Then I mustn’t stay long now,” said Amanda; “it will be pleasant to come up here again in the evening.”

Amanda tried on Anne’s blue cape and hat, looked admiringly at Mrs. Stoddard’s shining gold piece and brown shawl, and then Anne handed her the package of barley sugar.

“I will keep it,” said Amanda, gratefully; “’twould seem ungrateful to eat a present.”

Mrs. Stoddard nodded. “Keep it until Sunday, Amanda,” she said, “but then it will be well to eat a part of it.”

“But can she not taste it now?” asked Anne. “I am sure it is good. It came out of a big glass jar in a shop.”

“I see I must tell you two little girls a secret,” said Mrs. Stoddard, “but Amanda must not tell Amos.”

“No, indeed,” said Amanda quickly.

“It is about this evening,” said Mrs. Stoddard; “I am going to make a fine dish of molasses candy!”

“Oh, Aunt Martha!” “Oh, Mistress Stoddard!” exclaimed the little girls together.

“It has been years since I tasted any myself,” went on Mrs. Stoddard, “but I remember well how it is made; and I do not believe one of you children has ever tasted it.”

“My mother has told us about it,” said Amanda, “and said that when times were better she would make us some.”

“We all need cheering up,” said Mrs. Stoddard, “and I am glad I can give you children a treat to remember. Now, Amanda, you see why it will be best not to eat your barley sugar until Sunday.”

“I have good times every day since I gave you the white kitten,” said Amanda, as she bade Anne good-bye, and started for home.

“We must bring all our chairs into the kitchen to-night, Anne,” said Aunt Martha, as soon as supper was finished, “for even then I doubt if there be seats enough for our company.”

“I had best bring in my long bench from the shed,” said Captain Enos; “’twill be just the thing to put a row of Starkweather boys on.”

“The youngest is but two years old,” said Mrs. Stoddard; “’Tis like he will find our bed a good resting place.”

Mr. and Mrs. Cary with Amos and Amanda were the first to arrive, and as they came in Captain Enos put two big pieces of pitch pine on the fire. In a moment it blazed up making the kitchen as light as day.

The Starkweathers, climbing up the sandy hill, saw the bright light shining through the windows of the little house, and Mrs. Starkweather exclaimed:

“Does it not look cheerful? To think of us all coming to a merrymaking! It was surely a kind thought of Mistress Stoddard’s.”

“Shall we play games?” asked Daniel, the boy next younger than Jimmie.

“It may be,” answered his mother, “and you boys must be quiet and not rough in your play. Remember there is a little girl in the house.”

The youngest Starkweather boy, carried carefully by his father, was sound asleep when they reached the Stoddards’, and was put comfortably down on Mrs. Stoddard’s big bed, while the others gathered around the fire.

“Sit you here, boys,” directed Captain Enos, pointing to the long bench, “and you girls can bring your stools beside me. I have a fine game for you to play. Do you see this shining brass button? ’twas given me in Boston, and came from the coat of a British soldier. Now we will play ‘Button’ with it,” and the captain, with a few whispered words to Jimmie Starkweather, slid the shining button into his hand, and “Button, button! who’s got the button?” was soon being laughingly asked from one to another as the brass button went from Jimmie to Amos, passed into Anne’s hand and swiftly on to Amanda, and back to Jimmie before Captain Enos could locate it.

“Look!” exclaimed one of the younger Starkweather boys. “Mistress Stoddard is pouring syrup into a kettle!”

“Yes, my boy,” said Captain Enos laughingly, “and now you will all be glad that I had a good trip to Boston, for I brought home a keg of fine molasses, and now you will have some first-class candy!”

There were many exclamations of surprise and pleasure, even the older members of the party declaring that it would indeed be a fine treat; and Mrs. Starkweather said that it reminded her of the times when she was a little girl like Anne, and her mother made candy for her.

The molasses boiled and bubbled in the big kettle hung over the fire, and Mrs. Stoddard and Mrs. Cary took turns in stirring it. The children brought dippers of cold water for spoonfuls of the hot molasses to be dropped in to see if it had begun to candy; and when Amanda lifted a stringy bit from her tin cup and held it up for Mrs. Stoddard to see, it was decided that it was cooked enough, and the kettle was lifted from the fire and the steaming, fragrant mass turned into carefully buttered pans.

“We must set these out-of-doors to cool,” said Mrs. Stoddard; so Jimmie, Amos and Daniel were each entrusted with a pan to carry out on the broad step.

“When it is cool we will all work it,” said Mrs. Stoddard; “that means pull and twist it into sticks.”

It did not take long for the candy to cool, and then under Mrs. Stoddard’s directions each child was given a piece to work into shape. But the candy proved too tempting to work over, and in a few minutes the long bench was filled with a row of boys, each one happily chewing away upon a clumsy piece of molasses candy.