A Little Maid of Old Maine | Page 4

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.
CHAPTER II
REBECCA'S SECRET
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 are 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:
"'When sea-birds fly to land A storm is at hand.'"
"But look at Malty," responded Anna quickly, pointing to the fat
Maltese cat who was industriously washing her face:
"'If the cat washes her face over the ear '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,'" she 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," 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