The Adventures of Ann | Page 5

fingers, even in those old days when children worked as well as their
elders. Ann admired and loved Hannah, because she had what she,
herself, had not; and Hannah loved and pitied Ann because she had not
what she had. It was a sweet little friendship, and would not have been,
if Ann had not been free from envy and Hannah humble and pitying.
When Ann told her what a long stint she had to do before school,
Hannah would shed sympathizing tears.
Ann, after a solemn promise of secrecy, told her about the indentures
one day. Hannah listened with round, serious eyes; her brown hair was
combed smoothly down over her ears. She was a veritable little Puritan
damsel herself.
"If I could only get the papers, I wouldn't have to mind her, and work
so hard," said Ann.
Hannah's eyes grew rounder. "Why, it would be sinful to take them!"
said she.
Ann's cheeks blazed under her wondering gaze, and she said no more.
When she was about eleven years old, one icy January day, Hannah
wanted her to go out and play on the ice after school. They had no
skates, but it was rare fun to slide. Ann went home and asked Mrs.
Polly's permission with a beating heart; she promised to do a double
stint next day, if she would let her go. But her mistress was
inexorable--work before play, she said, always; and Ann must not
forget that she was to be brought up to work; it was different with her
from what it was with Hannah French. Even this she meant kindly
enough, but Ann saw Hannah go away, and sat down to her spinning
with more fierce defiance in her heart than had ever been there before.

She had been unusually good, too, lately. She always was, during the
three months' schooling, with sober, gentle little Hannah French.
She had been spinning sulkily a while, and it was almost dark, when a
messenger came for her master and mistress to go to Deacon Thomas
Wales', who had been suddenly taken very ill.
Ann would have felt sorry if she had not been so angry. Deacon Wales
was almost as much of a favorite of hers as his wife. As it was, the
principal thing she thought of, after Mr. Wales and his wife had gone,
was that the key was in the desk. However it had happened, there it was.
She hesitated a moment. She was all alone in the kitchen, and her heart
was in a tumult of anger, but she had learned her lessons from the Bible
and the New England Primer and she was afraid of the sin. But, at last,
she opened the desk, found the indentures, and hid them in the little
pocket which she wore tied about her waist, under her petticoat.
Then she threw her blanket over her head, and got her poppet out of the
chest. The poppet was a little doll manufactured from a corn-cob,
dressed in an indigo-colored gown. Grandma had made it for her, and it
was her chief treasure. She clasped it tight to her bosom and ran across
lots to Hannah French's.
Hannah saw her coming, and met her at the door.
"I've brought you my poppet," whispered Ann, all breathless, "and you
must keep her always, and not let her work too hard. I'm going away!"
Hannah's eyes looked like two solemn moons. "Where are you going,
Ann?"
"I'm going to Boston to find my own mother." She said nothing about
the indentures to Hannah--somehow she could not.
Hannah could not say much, she was so astonished, but as soon as Ann
had gone, scudding across the fields, she went in with the poppet and
told her mother.

Deacon Thomas Wales was very sick. Mr. and Mrs. Samuel remained
at his house all night, but Ann was not left alone, for Mr. Wales had an
apprentice who slept in the house.
Ann did not sleep any that night. She got up very early, before any one
was stirring, and dressed herself in her Sunday clothes. Then she tied
up her working clothes in a bundle, crept softly down stairs, and out
doors.
It was bright moonlight and quite cold. She ran along as fast as she
could on the Boston road. Deacon Thomas Wales' house was on the
way. The windows were lit up. She thought of grandma and poor
grandpa, with a sob in her heart, but she sped along. Past the
schoolhouse, and meeting-house, too, she had to go, with big qualms of
grief and remorse. But she kept on. She was a fast traveller.
She had reached the North Precinct of Braintree by daylight. So far, she
had not encountered a single person. Now, she heard horse's