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
Mr. Lyon had seated himself at his desk, and at the sound of Anna’s voice he looked up in surprise.
“Why, child! You have been so quiet I had forgotten you. Run out to the sitting-room to Mrs. Lyon,” and Anna obeyed, not forgetting to curtsy as she left the room.
HOW LONG THE AFTERNOON SEEMED!
Mrs. Lyon had a basket piled high with work. There were stockings to be darned, pillow-cases to be neatly repaired, and an apron of stout drilling to be hemmed. Anna’s task was to darn stockings. She was given Melvina’s thimble to use, a smooth wooden ball to slip into the stocking, and a needle and skein of cotton.
How long the afternoon seemed! Never before had Anna stayed indoors for the whole of a May afternoon. She felt tired and sleepy, and did not want to walk about the garden after supper—as Mrs. Lyon kindly suggested; and not until Mrs. Lyon said that Melvina, on every pleasant day, walked about the garden after supper, did Anna go slowly down the path. But she stood at the gate looking in the direction of her home with wistful eyes.
“Two weeks,” she whispered; it seemed so long a time could never pass. Then she remembered that the next day she would go home for the daily visit agreed upon.
If the days passed slowly with Anna, to Melvina they seemed only too short. She had quickly made friends with Rebecca, and the elder girl was astonished at the daring spirit of the minister’s daughter. Melvina would balance herself on the very edge of the bluff, when she and Rebby, often followed by a surprised and128 unhappy Luretta, went for a morning walk. Or on their trips to the lumber yard for chips Melvina would climb to the top of some pile of timber and dance about as if trying to make Rebby frightened lest she fall. She went wading along the shore, and brought home queerly shaped rocks and tiny mussel-shells; and, as her father had hoped, her cheeks grew rosy and her eyes bright.
The day set for the erection of the liberty pole was the last day of the “exchange visit” of the two little girls, and Anna was now sure that Mrs. Lyon must think her very much like Melvina, for she had learned her daily lessons obediently, and moved about the house as quietly as a mouse.
But when she awoke on the morning of the day upon which she was to return home she was sure it was the happiest day of her life. Mrs. Lyon had even called her a “quiet and careful child,” and the minister smiled upon her, and said that she “was a loyal little maid.” So she had great reason for being pleased; and the thought of being home again made her ready to dance with delight.
The day that the tree of liberty was planted was declared a holiday, and the inhabitants of the129 town gathered on the bluff where it was to be set. Melvina and Anna and Luretta were together, and the other children of the neighborhood were scattered about.
“Where is Rebby, Mother?” Anna asked, looking about for her sister.
“To be sure! She started off with Lucia Horton, but I do not see them,” responded Mrs. Weston, smiling happily to think that her own little Danna would no longer be absent from home.
There was great rejoicing among the people as the tree was raised, and citizen after citizen stepped forward and made solemn pledges to resist England’s injustice to the American colonies. Then, amid the shouts of the assembled inhabitants, the discharge of musketry, and the sound of fife and drum, Machias took its rightful place among the defenders of American liberty.
But Rebecca Weston and Lucia Horton, sitting in an upper window of the Horton house, looked out at the inspiring scene without wishing to be any nearer. Rebecca was ashamed when she remembered her own part in trying to prevent the erection of a liberty pole, for now she realized all it stood for; and she was no longer130 afraid of an attack upon the town by an English gunboat. To Rebecca it seemed that such an attack would bring its own punishment. Her thoughts were now filled by a great desire to do something, something difficult and even dangerous to her own safety, in order to make up for that evening when she had crept out in the darkness and helped Lucia send the tree adrift.
But Lucia’s mind was filled with entirely different thoughts. She was ready to cry with disappointment and fear in seeing the liberty pole set up. She could not forget that her father had said that such a thing would mean trouble.
“If we had not set it adrift, Lucia, we could be on the bluff now with the others,” Rebby whispered, as they heard the gay notes of the fife.
“Bosh! Who wants to be any nearer? My mother says ’tis a silly and foolish performance,” replied Lucia. “But perhaps ’twill be cut down before the Polly comes into harbor.”
Rebecca jumped up from the window-seat, her face flushed and her eyes shining.
“No one would dare, Lucia Horton. And if it is cut down I’ll know you, or someone in this house, planned it; and I will tell my father just131 what you told me and what we did,” she exclaimed, starting toward the door.
“You can’t tell, ever, Rebecca Weston! You promised not to,” Lucia called after her, and Rebecca stopped suddenly. Lucia was right. No matter what happened she could never reveal what Lucia had told her, because of her promise; and a promise was a sacred thing.
Without a word of good-bye Rebecca went slowly down the stairs. This was the second time she had left the Horton house in anger. “I won’t come here again,” she thought, a little sadly, for she and Lucia had been “best friends” ever since Captain Horton had brought his family to the remote settlement.
“There’s Rebby,” Anna called joyfully, as holding her father’s hand, and with her mother walking close behind, she came along the path toward home. Rebby was walking slowly along a short distance in front of the little party, and Anna soon overtook her.
“Oh, Rebby! Was it not a splendid sight to see the liberty tree set up?” Anna exclaimed eagerly, “and all the men taking off their hats and cheering?”
“Yes,” responded Rebby briefly; and then132 looking at Anna she said: “Oh, Danna! I wish, more than anything, that I could do something to protect the liberty tree.”
“Perhaps you can, Rebby, sometime, you and I together,” replied Anna hopefully; “anyway, isn’t it lovely that I am home to stay?”
And to this Rebby could agree smilingly, but she kept in her heart the wish she had just uttered.
Anna went singing about the house quite satisfied now to be herself; and Rebby and her mother smiled at each other at the happiness of the little girl.
“I doubt not you have learned many things, Danna,” said Rebby, a little wistfully, as the sisters sat on the broad doorstep after supper looking down at the broad flowing river.
“Yes, indeed!” replied Anna confidently. “Why, Rebby, I know all about history. The minister told me that a hundred and fifty years ago there were English traders living right here, and they were driven away by the French. And then, some forty years ago, Governor Belcher of Massachusetts came cruising along this coast, and there was no one at all here. And, Rebby, Mr. Lyon says there are no such pine forests in all the colonies as stretch along behind this settlement.134 But, Rebby, you are not listening!” and Anna looked reproachfully at her sister.
“Oh, yes, indeed, Danna, I heard every word. And I heard Father say that very soon there would be a regular school here, with a master, as soon as America conquers her enemies. But, Danna, do you suppose anyone will dare touch the liberty pole?” For Rebby’s thoughts could not long stray from Lucia Horton’s prediction that it might be cut down.
“What’s that?” exclaimed Mr. Weston from the doorway behind them. “Cut down the liberty pole? Why, there is not a man in Machias who would do such a traitorous deed.”
Rebby’s face flushed scarlet at his words, but before she could speak, her father continued: “Well, Danna, are you ready for a day’s tramp with me to-morrow? I must go up to the mill at Kwapskitchwock Falls, and we will start early.”
“Oh, yes!” exclaimed Danna, jumping up and clasping her father’s hand. “And perhaps we shall catch a salmon above the falls, and broil it over a fire for our dinner.”
“That is what we will hope to do,” replied Mr. Weston. “And, Rebby, why do you not come135 with us? ’Tis but a few miles, and a day in the woods will do you good.”
“Why, perhaps I shall, if Mother does not need me,” Rebby answered. She so seldom cared for woodland tramps that Anna gave a little exclamation of surprised delight.
“I’ll make a corn-cake to take with us,” Rebby added, “and since we start early I had best bake it to-night,” and she went into the kitchen followed by Anna singing:
Where there are rabbits and birds and bees.”
Mrs. Weston smiled as she listened. “’Twould indeed be fine if you could find a store of wild honey in the woods; ’twould be a great help,” she said, measuring out the golden meal for Rebby to use for her corn-cake. There was no butter or eggs to use in its making, for all food was getting scarce in most of the loyal households. Rebby scalded the meal and stirred it carefully, then added milk, and turned the batter into an iron pan which she set over the fire. When it was cooked it would be a thin crispy cake that would be appetizing and nourishing. Rebby’s thoughts traveled away to the dainties of the Hortons’136 cupboard, but she said to herself that the “spider cake,” as the corn-cake was called, especially when eaten in the woods with freshly broiled salmon, would taste far better than the jellies and preserved fruits of the Hortons. Rebby could not forget Mrs. Horton’s scorn of the liberty pole.
The Westons were up at an early hour the next morning. The sun was just showing itself above the tops of the tall pines when the family sat down to their simple breakfast. Anna wore her skirt of tanned deerskin, moccasins, and her blouse of home-made flannel, while Rebecca’s dress was of stout cotton. Each of the girls wore round, turban-like hats. Anna’s was trimmed with the scarlet wings of a red bird, while Rebby’s had the white breast of a gull.
Mr. Weston wore deerskin breeches and moccasins and a flannel blouse. A stout leather belt about his waist carried a couple of serviceable knives, and he carried his musket, for the forest was filled with many wild animals, and the settlers were always ready to protect themselves.
Rebby carried a basket that held the corn-cake, and a flint and steel from which they would strike the spark for their noonday fire.137
Anna ran along close beside her father, until the path narrowed so that only one could walk, followed by the others. The air was cool and full of the forest odors. Now and then birds flitted past them, and once or twice Anna had a glimpse of startled rabbits, which she was sure were Trit and Trot.
“If I could only catch one to give Luretta,” she thought, “then she would forgive me for taking the other rabbits,” for Anna’s thoughts were often troubled because of the loss of Luretta’s pets.
Mr. Weston stopped at one point to show his daughters an arrow marked on a tall pine and pointing east. “That is to show the beginning of the path to Chandler’s River settlement,” he explained. “The trail is so dim that the woodsmen have blazed the trees to show the way. There is a good store of powder and shot at Chandler’s River,” he added, a little thoughtfully.
Rebby looked at the arrow, and afterward she had reason to remember her father’s words.
The mill at Kwapskitchwock Falls was not in use at the time of their visit, and the mill workers were in Machias. But great booms of logs, waiting
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