Have you ever thought about what fiction is? Probably, such a question may seem surprising: and so everything is clear. Every person throughout his life has to repeatedly create the works he needs for specific purposes - statements, autobiographies, dictations - using not gypsum or clay, not musical notes, not paints, but just a word. At the same time, almost every person will be very surprised if he is told that he thereby created a work of fiction, which is very different from visual art, music and sculpture making. However, everyone understands that a student's essay or dictation is fundamentally different from novels, short stories, news that are created by professional writers. In the works of professionals there is the most important difference - excogitation. But, oddly enough, in a school literature course, you don’t realize the full power of fiction. So using our website in your free time discover fiction for yourself. A Little Maid of Old Maine by Alice Turner Curtis (best summer reads of all time txt) 📖
- Author: Alice Turner Curtis
Book online «A Little Maid of Old Maine by Alice Turner Curtis (best summer reads of all time txt) 📖». Author Alice Turner Curtis
“Luretta, let’s you and I go up the trail toward the forest. Perhaps we might find Trit and Trot,” she suggested.
Luretta was out of the chair in a moment; and, quite forgetting all her anger toward Anna, she115 agreed promptly and the two little girls, hand in hand, came into the kitchen and told Mrs. Foster their plan.
She listened smilingly, but cautioned them not to go beyond the edge of the forest.
“You might meet some animal larger than a rabbit,” she warned them; “’tis the time when bears are about nibbling the tender bark and buds of the young trees; so go not into the wood. Beside that a party of Indians were seen near the upper falls yesterday.”
“But the Indians come often to the village, and do no harm,” said Anna.
But Mrs. Foster shook her head. She remembered that the Indians could not always be trusted. The little girls promised to follow the trail only to the edge of the wood, and started soberly off.
“We might see Trit and Trot behind any bush, might we not?” suggested Luretta hopefully.
“Perhaps we might see a little baby bear! Would it not be fine if we could catch two little bears instead of rabbits?” responded Anna, as they climbed the hill, stopping now and then to pick the tender young checkerberry leaves, or116 listen to the song of some woodland bird. A group of young spruce trees stood beside the trail, and here the two little girls stopped to rest. The sun was warm, and they both were glad to sit down in the pleasant shade.
They talked about the Polly, wondering when she would come to port, and then their thoughts went back to their lost pets.
“I do think you ought not to have taken them from the box. I am sure Paul will not like it when I tell him they are gone,” said Luretta.
Anna’s face grew grave. “Must you tell him?” she asked.
“Of course I must. He will bring home young leaves and roots for them to-night, and what will he say!” and Luretta’s voice sounded as if tears were very near.
While Luretta spoke Anna’s eyes had been fixed on a little clump of bushes on the other side of the trail. The bushes moved queerly. There was no wind, and Anna was sure that some little animal was hiding behind the shrubs. Greatly excited, Anna leaned forward, grasping Luretta’s arm.
“Look! those bushes!” she whispered.
At that moment a queer ball of dingy white117 appeared on the opposite side of the trail, and instantly Anna sprang toward it. Her hands grasped the torn and twisted piece of floating cloth, and closed upon the poor frightened little creature, one of the lost rabbits, nearly frightened to death by the strange garment that had prevented his escape.
If he could have spoken he would have begged for the freedom that his brother had achieved; but he could only tremble and shrink from the tender hands that held him so firmly.
In a moment Anna had unfastened the doll’s skirt, and Trit, or Trot, was once more clear of the detested garment.
“Oh, Danna! Do you suppose we can take it safely home?” exclaimed the delighted Luretta.
“Just see how frightened he is,” Anna responded. Somehow she no longer wished to take the little creature back and shut it up.
“Do you suppose its mother is trying to find it?” she continued thoughtfully.
“And would it tell its brothers and sisters all its adventures, just as Mother said?” questioned Luretta.
“Why not?” Anna’s brown eyes sparkled. “Of course it would. Probably Trot is safe118 home by this time, and all the rabbit family are looking out for Trit.”
Anna looked hopefully toward Luretta. If Trit went free it must be Luretta’s gift. Anna felt that she had no right to decide.
“Let him go, Danna,” said Luretta softly; and very gently Anna released her clasp on the soft little rabbit. It looked quickly up, and with a bound it was across the trail and out of sight.
Both the girls drew a long breath.
“I will tell Paul about Trit’s mother and brothers and sisters,” said Luretta, as they started toward home. “Probably he will laugh; but I guess he will say they ought to be free.”
Both Anna and Luretta were very quiet on the walk home. Anna began to feel tired. It seemed to her that a great deal had happened since morning. She remembered the liberty pole, with a little guilty sense of having been more interested in the rabbits, and in Melvina and Luretta, than in the safety of the emblem of freedom. But she was glad that Luretta was no longer angry at her.
“You don’t care much about the rabbits, do you, Danna?” Luretta asked, as they stopped near Luretta’s house to say good-bye.119
“I am glad they are free,” replied Anna. “It would be dreadful to have giants catch us, wouldn’t it?”
Luretta agreed soberly, thinking that to the rabbits she must have seemed a giant.
“Father will say ’twas best to let them go, whatever Paul says,” she added, and promising to meet the next day the friends parted.
Anna danced along the path in her old fashion, quite forgetting Melvina’s measured steps. Everything was all right now. She and Luretta were friends; Mrs. Foster had pardoned her; and the liberty pole was found. So she was smiling and happy as she pushed open the door and entered the pleasant kitchen, expecting to see her mother and Rebby; but no one was there. The room looked deserted. She opened the door leading into the front room and her happy smile vanished.
Her mother sat there, looking very grave and anxious; and facing the kitchen door and looking straight at Anna was Mrs. Lyon, while on a stool beside her sat Melvina, her flounced linen skirt and embroidered white sunbonnet as white as a gull’s breast.
Anna looked from one to the other wonderingly.120 Of course, she thought, Mrs. Lyon had come to call her a mischievous girl on account of the rabbits. All her happiness vanished; and when her mother said: “Come in, Anna. Mrs. Lyon has come on purpose to speak with you,” she quite forgot to curtsy to the minister’s wife, and stood silent and afraid.
“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
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