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
Both the girls hastened to obey; but Anna’s thoughts were pleasantly occupied with the morrow’s excursion when she would set forth with her father to discover the “handsome sapling pine tree,” which was to be erected as the emblem of the loyalty of the Machias settlement to Freedom’s call. Anna knew they would follow one of the Indian trails through the forest, where she would see many a wild bird, and that the day would be filled with delight.
But Rebecca’s thoughts were not so pleasant. Here it was the fifth of May, and no sign of the Polly, and on the tenth she would be fourteen; and not a birthday gift could she hope for unless the sloop arrived. Beside this, the talk of a liberty pole in Machias made her anxious and unhappy.17 Only yesterday she had spent the afternoon with her most particular friend, Lucia Horton, whose father was captain of the Polly; and Lucia had told Rebecca something of such importance, after vowing her to secrecy, that this talk of a liberty pole really frightened her. And the thought that her own father was to select it brought the danger very near. She wished that Lucia had kept the secret to herself, and became worried and unhappy.
Rebecca was thinking of these things, and not of spreading the table, when she went to the cupboard to bring out the pewter plates, and she quite forgot her errand until her mother called:
“Rebby! Rebby! What are you about in the cupboard?” Then, bringing only one plate instead of four, she came slowly back to the kitchen.
“What ails the child?” questioned Mrs. Weston sharply. “I declare, I believe both of my children are losing their wits. Here is Anna making rhymes and sing-songing her words in strange fashion; and thou, Rebecca, a girl of nearly fourteen, careless of thy work, and standing before me on one foot like a heron, staring at naught,” and Mrs. Weston hurried to the pantry for the forgotten dishes.18
Anna smiled at her mother’s sharp words, for she did not mind being called a silly girl for rhyming words. “’Tis no harm,” thought Anna, “and my father says ’tis as natural as for the birds to sing;” so she added more chips to the fire, and thought no more of it.
But Rebecca, who was used to being praised for her good sense and who was seldom found fault with, had looked at her mother in surprise, and the pewter plate fell from her hands and went clattering to the floor. At that moment the door swung open and Mr. Weston entered the kitchen.
“Father! Father!” exclaimed Rebecca, running toward him, “you won’t put up a liberty pole, will you? You won’t! Promise you won’t, Father!” and she clasped his arm with both hands.
Mr. Weston looked down smilingly at his little daughter. He was evidently amused at her excitement.
“Is this the little girl who was born in loyal Boston?” he questioned; for Rebecca was six years of age and Anna three when their parents came to this far-off place to make their home. Eastern Maine was then a wilderness, and this little village was not connected with the outside world except by the Indian trails or by the sailing craft which plied up and down the coast. But its citizens were soon to write a page of heroism and valor in their country’s history.
“Of course Machias is to have a liberty pole,” continued Mr. Weston. “It has been so decided by a vote in a town meeting; and Dan and I will start off in good season to-morrow morning to look for the finest pine sapling in the forest. It will be a great day for the village when ’tis set up, with its waving green plume to show that we are20 pledged to resist England’s injustice to her long-suffering colonies.”
It was the custom to leave a tuft of verdure at the top of the liberty tree as an emblem, the best they had at command, of the flag they meant to fight for.
Before her father had finished speaking Rebecca had relinquished her grasp on his arm and ran toward the cupboard, and neither her father nor mother gave much thought to her anxious question. The venison was just ready to serve, and Mrs. Weston hurried from the fireplace to the table, on which Rebecca had now placed the dishes, while Mr. Weston and Anna talked happily together over the proposed excursion on the following day.
“I am afraid that we may have to postpone our journey,” said Mr. Weston, “for I noticed the gulls were coming in flocks close to the shores, and you know:
A storm is at hand.’”
“But look at Malty,” responded Anna quickly, pointing to the fat Maltese cat who was industriously washing her face:21
’Tis a sign the weather’ll be fine and clear,’”
quoted the little girl; “and you told me ’twas a sure sign, Father; and ’tis what Matty is doing this minute.”
“To be sure,” laughed Mr. Weston, “both are sure signs, and so we will hope for fair weather.”
Rebecca was very silent at dinner, and as the sisters began to clear away the dishes Anna watched her with troubled eyes.
“Perhaps it’s because I called her ‘Rebby,’” thought the little girl regretfully. “I’ll tell her I am sorry,” and when their mother left the kitchen Anna whispered:
“Flora, I forgot when I called you ‘Rebby.’ But I will now surely remember. You are not vexed at me, are you?” and Anna leaned her head against her sister’s arm and looked up at her pleadingly.
Rebecca sniffed a little, as if trying to keep back the tears. She wished she could talk over her worries with Anna; but of course that would never do.
“I believe I’d rather be called ‘Rebby,’” she22 managed to say, to the surprise of her younger sister. “Do you suppose they really mean to put up a liberty pole?”
“Of course,” responded Anna. “I heard the minister say that it must be done.”
Rebby sighed dolefully. She was old enough to understand the talk she heard constantly of His Majesty’s ships of war capturing the American fishing sloops, and of the many troubles caused to peaceable Americans all along the coast; and she, like all the American children, knew that their rights must be defended; but Lucia Horton’s talk had frightened and confused Rebecca’s thoughts. To set up a liberty pole now seemed to her a most dangerous thing to do, and something that would bring only trouble.
She wished with all her heart that she could tell her father all that Lucia had told her. But that she could not do because of her promise. Rebecca knew that a promise was a sacred thing, not to be broken.
“Rebby, will you not go to the bluff with me? ’Twill be pleasant there this afternoon, and we could see the Polly if she chances to come into harbor to-day,” said Anna.
“You had best ask Luretta Foster, Danna,”23 she answered quickly. “I am sure Mother will want my help with her quilting this afternoon.”
Rebby so often played at being “grown up” that this reply did not surprise Anna, and she ran off to find her mother and ask permission to go to the shore with Luretta Foster, a girl of about her own age. Mrs. Weston gave her consent, and in a few moments the little girl was running along the river path toward the blacksmith shop where a short path led to Luretta’s home.
Anna often thought that there could not be another little girl in all the world as pretty as Luretta. Luretta was not as tall or as strongly made as Anna; her eyes were as blue as the smooth waters of the harbor on a summer’s day; her hair was as yellow as the floss on an ear of corn, and her skin was not tanned brown like Anna’s, but was fair and delicate. Beside her Anna looked more like a boy than ever. But Luretta admired Anna’s brown eyes and short curly hair, and was quite sure that there was no other little girl who could do or say such clever things as Anna Weston. So the two little girls were always well pleased with each other’s company, and to-day Luretta was quite ready to go down to the shore and watch for the Polly. Mrs.24 Foster tied on the big sunbonnet which Luretta always wore out-of-doors, and the two friends started off.
“Will it not be fine if the Polly reaches harbor to-day?” said Anna. “My father says she will bring sugar and molasses and spices, and it may be the Unity will come sailing in beside her loaded with things from far lands. Do you not wish our fathers were captains of fine sloops, Luretta, so that perhaps we could go sailing off to Boston?”
But Luretta shook her head. “I’d much rather journey by land,” she answered; “but ’tis said the Polly is to bring a fine silk gown for Mistress Lyon; ’tis a present from her sister in Boston, and two dolls for Melvina Lyon. Why is it that ministers’ daughters have so many gifts?” and Luretta sighed. Her only doll was made of wood, and, though it was very dear to her, Luretta longed for a doll with a china head and hands, such as the fortunate little daughter of the minister already possessed.
“I care not for Melvina Lyon, if she be a minister’s daughter,” Anna responded bravely. “She can do nothing but sew and knit and make fine cakes, and read from grown-up books. She25 is never allowed to go fishing, or wade in the cove on warm days, or go off in the woods as I do. I doubt if Melvina Lyon could tell the difference ’twixt a partridge and heron, or if she could tell a spruce tree from a fir. And as for presents, hers are of no account. They are but dolls, and silver thimbles and silk aprons. Why! did not my father bring me home a fine beaver skin for a hood, and a pair of duck’s wings, and a pair of moccasins the very last time he went north!” And Anna, out of breath, looked at her friend triumphantly.
“But Melvina’s things are all bought in stores in big towns, and your presents are all from the woods, just as if you were a little Indian girl,” objected Luretta, who greatly admired the ruffled gowns of Melvina’s dolls, such as no other little girl in the settlement possessed.
Anna made no response to this; but she was surprised that Luretta should not think as she did about the value of her gifts, and rather vexed that Melvina Lyon should be praised by her own particular friend.
The girls had passed the sawmill and lumber yard, and now turned from the well-traveled path to climb a hill where they could catch the first26 glimpse of any sail entering the harbor. Farther along this bluff stood the church, not yet quite finished, and beyond it the house of the minister, the Reverend James Lyon, whose little daughter, Melvina, was said to be the best behaved and the smartest girl in the settlement. Although only ten years old Melvina had already “pieced” four patchwork quilts and quilted them; and her neat stitches were the admiration of all the women of the town. But most of the little girls were a little in awe of Melvina, who never cared to play games, and always brought her knitting or sewing when she came for an afternoon visit.
Anna and Luretta sat down on the short grass, and for a few moments talked of the Polly, and looked in vain for the glimmer of a sail.
“Look, Danna! Here comes Melvina now,” whispered Luretta, whose quick ears had caught the sound of steps.
Anna looked quickly around. “She’s all dressed up,” she responded. “See, her skirts set out all around her like a wheel.”
Melvina walked with great care, avoiding the rough places, and so intent on her steps that, if Anna had not called her name, she would have passed without seeing them. She was
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