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
“Lucia Horton dropped it on purpose!” she said. “I know she did.”
“And nobody asked her to come to our party,” added Anna; “’twas rude of her to come.”
Mrs. Weston looked in astonishment at her two little daughters.
“Not ask Lucia?” she questioned, and listened to Rebby’s explanation: that, because of the Hortons’ store of dainties, and their scorn of the simple fare of their neighbors, Rebby had decided not to ask Lucia to her party.
But when the little girl had finished her story, Mrs. Weston shook her head disapprovingly.
“I am not pleased with you, Rebecca,” she said. “’Twas not a kind thought to sit in judgment and decide to punish a friend for something172 that is no fault of hers. Lucia did right to come. Of course she thought you would welcome her.”
“She didn’t! She didn’t!” exclaimed Rebby. “She made up faces at me, and said—”
“Never mind, Rebecca. You see what comes from quarreling. Your mug is broken, Lucia’s dress is spoiled, and you had no pleasure from the afternoon. Now, there is something for you to do to put this straight. You must take off your pinafore, put on your sunbonnet, and go straight to Mrs. Horton’s and ask Lucia’s pardon.”
“Oh, Mother!” wailed Rebby. “It isn’t fair. It isn’t my fault.”
But Mrs. Weston was firm. From Rebby’s own story her mother decided that she had been unfair to Lucia; she did not ask if Rebby had purposely spilled the honey on Lucia’s muslin dress, but she felt it was not the time to allow any ill feeling among the families of the settlement, and that Rebecca’s failure to ask the Hortons to come with the other neighbors to taste the wild honey could easily offend them.
Anna stood looking first at Rebby and then at her mother. It was so seldom that Rebby173 cried, that it seemed a very dreadful thing to her younger sister.
“I’ll go, Mother, let me go!” she asked eagerly.
“Do not be so foolish, Anna,” responded Mrs. Weston. “This is your sister’s duty. It has nothing to do with you. Take off your pinafore, Rebecca, and do as I bid you.”
Rebecca was sobbing bitterly. She could not believe that her mother really meant that she should go and ask Lucia Horton’s forgiveness.
“If you knew——” she began, tempted to tell her mother all that Lucia had said about the liberty pole, and even what they had done to prevent its erection. But the memory of her promise held her. She knew that her mother expected obedience, and she took off her pinafore, took her sunbonnet, and, still sobbing, went slowly from the room. Anna started to follow her, but Mrs. Weston called her back sharply.
“Anna, you are not to go with your sister,” she said, and the little girl came slowly back.
“Oh, dear,” she sighed, “I wish Lucia Horton would go sailing off to far lands. To—to Egypt,” she concluded. For Anna had never heard much that was pleasant about Egypt,174 and was sure that all this trouble was Lucia’s fault.
Rebecca had never been so unhappy in her life as when she realized that her mother expected her to go to the Hortons’ and ask Lucia’s pardon for not inviting Mrs. Horton and Lucia to the honey party. There were robins singing in the trees, bluebirds flitting about with gay little notes, and the spring day was full of beauty, but Rebby was not conscious of it as she went slowly along the path.
Very soon she was again standing in front of the Hortons’ door, and summoning all her courage she rapped loudly. There was no response, and after a few moments she rapped again; but the house seemed silent and deserted, and no one came to open the door.
And now Rebecca did not know what to do. If she went home she knew that her mother would say that she must return at a later hour to fulfil her errand. So the little girl decided to sit down on the steps and wait for a time.
Twilight was near at hand. The sun was low in the western sky, and a cool little breeze crept up from the river and stirred the tree-tops. Shadows gathered about the house, and still there175 was no sign or sound of the Hortons, and Rebby was about to start for home when a man came around the corner of the house and spoke to her.
He was evidently a sailor, and in a great hurry. He asked no questions but began speaking as if he had no time to lose.
“Tell your mother that the Polly and Unity will come into harbor to-morrow, and that Captain Jones is on board the Unity. There’s a British gunboat along with them, and your father says there may be trouble, and for you and your mother to keep close indoors until he comes.”
The sailor started to move off, but Rebby found courage to ask:
“Where—where are the sloops now?”
“Anchored below Round Island; but we’ll be sailing in with morning tide. The Captain bade me keep well out of sight and come straight back to the sloop. Be sure you tell your mother,” responded the man, speaking in such low tones that Rebby had to listen sharply to understand.
“Yes, I’ll tell my mother,” she replied, and without a moment’s hesitation she started for home as fast as her feet could carry her. She had entirely forgotten her anger toward Lucia, or her mother’s reproof. All she could think of176 was the news this sailor, evidently a member of the Polly’s crew, had told her, believing that he was speaking to Lucia Horton.
And now Rebecca recalled all that Lucia had told her of what might befall the little village if a British gunboat sailed into harbor and saw a liberty tree flaunting its courageous defiance to injustice. But now she could tell her father, not Lucia’s secret, but what the sailor had told her.
“And Father will know what to do. Father and Mr. Lyon,” she thought breathlessly, as she ran swiftly up the path and burst into the kitchen, where her father and mother and Anna were waiting her return.
She told her story quickly, and without any mention of what Lucia had confided in her weeks before. “The sailor thought I was Captain Horton’s little girl,” she concluded.
Mr. Weston questioned Rebby carefully, and then said:
“I’ll take this news to Captain O’Brien and to Parson Lyon; but say nothing about it to anyone until we see what news the Polly brings.” And he hurried away to prepare his neighbors for possible danger.
“You see, Rebby, your obedience may have177 saved the settlement,” said Mrs. Weston, putting her arm about Rebecca.
“But I had not seen Lucia, Mother. I was waiting for her,” said Rebecca.
Mrs. Weston made no answer; her thoughts were too full of the possible dangers to the settlement from the British gunboat to think much of the postponed apology; nor was the matter ever again mentioned.
“Now, Rebby, you really have done something for America,” declared Anna, as the sisters went up to their room that night. But Rebby shook her head.
“No, Danna, I haven’t. But perhaps I can sometime, and you too,” she replied. For some reason, that Rebby could not explain even to herself, her thoughts centered around what her father had said on their trip to the Falls of the store of powder and shot at Chandler’s River settlement. She had heard her father say that Machias was but ill provided with munitions; and with a British gunboat coming into harbor the next day who could tell how quickly powder and shot might be needed?
The next morning dawned bright and tranquil. The fragrance of pine woods and broad meadows filled the air, and practically all the inhabitants of Machias gathered about the wharves to watch for the Polly and Unity to come sailing into harbor.
The provisions the sloops were bringing were greatly needed; but when Mr. Weston had told the men of the settlement that the sloops were being convoyed by a British war vessel their alarm and consternation can be imagined. Mrs. Horton and Lucia were about the only ones absent from the wharf when, silently and without a cheer of welcome, the Polly and Unity, and the boat flying the hated English flag came to anchor.
Captain Jones came ashore, greeting his old-time friends cordially, and explaining that the presence of the gunboat was only to protect him from attacks by British cruisers. But his explanation179 was received in silence. The memory of the recent battle in Lexington was fresh in the people’s hearts, and much as they needed the provisions on the sloops they were ready to do without them unless Captains Horton and Jones could assure their fellow-townsmen of their loyalty and send the British gunboat from the harbor.
Finally he received consent to land his goods, and commenced trading with the people as usual, while the Margaretta, the British gunboat, lay at anchor off White’s Point, some distance below the town.
Mrs. Lyon received many packages from her Boston relatives, and there were two dolls for Melvina, the ones of which Luretta had spoken on the day when she and Anna had led Melvina to the shore to show her a “clam’s nest.”
Rebecca’s gold beads, intended for her birthday, were safely delivered; and beside the beads was a pair of silk mitts for both Rebby and Anna. To Rebby this seemed a very wonderful thing, and she felt it almost a reward for carrying back those Lucia had given her.
Mrs. Horton now kept Lucia closely at home. Anna and Luretta were invited to spend an afternoon180 with Melvina, and become acquainted with the new dolls, and Melvina urged Luretta to bring Trit, resolving to dress up the rabbit as she and Anna had done before.
Rebecca was more aware of the troubled condition of the settlement than were these younger girls. Paul Foster told her that his Uncle Benjamin, a bold and energetic man who had served in the old French War, said that the Machias men ought to capture the British gunboat, and take the sloops, making their captains and crews prisoners. Rebby listened eagerly.
“But we couldn’t capture them, Paul; I heard Father say there was but little powder and shot in the settlement,” she said.
“We’d get ’em,” declared Paul. “If Jones and Horton think they are going to load up their sloops with lumber for British barracks in Boston they’ll see trouble.”
“And Parson Lyon is not to preach at the liberty pole,” said Rebby a little thoughtfully.
Paul made no response to this. He had come up to the Westons’ on an errand for his mother, and was now eager to get back to the wharves where the sloops were being unloaded.
“If the Britisher fires on our liberty pole181 they’ll hear a sermon all right,” he called back as he ran down the path.
It was difficult for Rebby to attend to the simple duties that her mother required of her. Whenever her father entered the house she watched his face anxiously, half-expecting him to say that the Machias men were ready to capture the gunboat before it could attack the town. When Anna came home eager to describe Melvina’s new dolls, and to tell of dressing up Trit, and that London Atus, coming into the room where the little girls were playing and seeing the rabbit wearing a white skirt and bonnet, had turned and run out muttering something about “witches,” Rebby listened, but with little interest.
“Danna,” she said, as soon as the sisters were alone, “do you suppose you and I could find the way to Chandler’s River?”
“Of course we could,” Anna declared. “Don’t you remember that Father showed us where the trail began, marked by ‘spotted’ trees?”
“Yes, I remember. Listen, Anna; there is hardly any powder or shot in Machias; if there were the men could protect the liberty pole.”
“Yes, yes,” Anna responded quickly. “I182 heard Parson Lyon telling Captain O’Brien that all the men ought to be ready to defend the settlement.”
“Oh, Anna! There are quantities of powder stored at Chandler’s Mills. Why couldn’t we go after it?” Rebby whispered. “Then indeed we would be helping, and perhaps ’twould save the liberty pole.”
“Would Father let us?” Anna asked doubtfully.
“Don’t you see? We must go after it without telling anyone; then when we bring it back the men can drive off
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