A Little Maid of Old Maine | Page 6

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 thin and dark, and looked
more like a little old lady than a ten-year-old girl.
"How do you do?" she said, bowing as ceremoniously as if Luretta and
Anna were grown up people of importance.
"Come and sit down, Melly, and watch for the Polly," said Anna.
"And tell us about the fine dolls that are on board for you," added
Luretta quickly.
A little smile crept over Melvina's face and she took a step toward them,

but stopped suddenly.
"I fear 'twould not be wise for me to stop," she said a little fearfully; but
before she could say anything more Anna and Luretta had jumped up
and ran toward her.
"Look!" exclaimed Anna, pointing to a flock of white gulls that had just
settled on the smooth water near the shore.
"Look, Melly, at the fine partridges!"
Melvina's dark eyes looked in the direction Anna pointed. "Thank you,
Anna. How white they are, and what a queer noise they make," she
responded seriously.
Anna's eyes danced with delight as she heard Luretta's half-repressed
giggle at Melvina's reply. She resolved that Luretta should realize of
how little importance Melvina Lyon, with all her dolls, and her
starched skirts like wheels, really was.
"And are those not big alder trees, Melly?" she continued, pointing to a
group of fine pine trees near by.
Again Melvina's eyes followed the direction of Anna's pointing finger,
and again the minister's little daughter replied politely that the trees
were indeed very fine alders.
Luretta was now laughing without any effort to conceal her amusement.
That any little girl in Maine should not know a partridge from a gull, or
an alder bush from a pine tree, seemed too funny to even make it
necessary to try to be polite; and Luretta was now ready to join in the
game of finding out how little Melvina Lyon, "the smartest and
best-behaved child in the settlement," really knew.
"And, Danna, perhaps Melvina has never seen the birds we call clams?"
she suggested.
Melvina looked from Anna to Luretta questioningly. These little girls

could not be laughing at her, she thought, recalling with satisfaction
that it was well known that she could spell the names of every city in
Europe, and repeat the list of all England's kings and queens. She
remembered, also, that Anna Weston was called a tomboy, and that her
mother said it was a scandal for a little girl to have short hair. So she
again replied pleasantly that she had never known that clams were birds.
"We have them stewed very often," she declared.
Anna fairly danced about the neat little figure in the well-starched blue
linen skirt.
"Oh, Melly! You must come down to the shore, and we will show you a
clam's nest," she said, remembering that only yesterday she had
discovered the nest of a kingfisher in an oak tree whose branches nearly
touched the shore, and could point this out to the ignorant Melvina.
"But I am to visit Lucia Horton this afternoon, and I must not linger,"
objected Melvina.
"It will not take long," urged Anna, clasping Melvina's arm, while
Luretta promptly grasped the other, and half led, half pushed the
surprised and uncertain Melvina along the rough slope. Anna talked
rapidly as they hurried along. "You ought really to see a clam's nest,"
she urged, between her bursts of laughter; "why, Melly, even Luretta
and I know about clams."
Anna had not intended to be rude or cruel when she first began her
game of letting Luretta see that Melly and her possessions were of no
importance, but Melvina's ignorance of the common things about her,
as well as her neatly braided hair, her white stockings and kid shoes,
such as no other child in the village possessed, made Anna feel as if
Melvina was not a real little girl, but a dressed-up figure. She chuckled
at the thought of Luretta's calling clams "birds," with a new admiration
for her friend.
"I guess after this Luretta won't always be talking about Melvina Lyon
and her dolls," she thought triumphantly; and at that moment Melvina's
foot slipped and all three of the little girls went sliding down the sandy

bluff.
The slide did not matter to either Anna or Luretta, in their stout shoes
and every-day dresses of coarse flannel, but to the carefully dressed
Melvina it was a serious mishap. Her starched skirts were crushed and
stained, her white stockings soiled, and her slippers scratched. The hat
of fine-braided straw with its ribbon band, another "present" from the
Boston relatives, now hung about her neck, and her knitting-bag