The Adventures of Ann | Page 2

they had something to do with her coming to
this strange place; and, already, a shadowy purpose began to form itself
in her mind.
She sat on a cunning little wooden stool, close to the fireplace, and kept
her small chapped hands persistently over her face; she was scared, and
grieved, and, withal, a trifle sulky. Mrs. Polly Wales cooked some
Indian meal mush for supper in an iron pot swinging from its trammel
over the blazing logs, and cast scrutinizing glances at the little stranger.
She had welcomed her kindly, taken off her outer garments, and
established her on the little stool in the warmest corner, but the child
had given a very ungracious response. She would not answer a word to
Mrs. Wales' coaxing questions, but twitched herself away with all her
small might, and kept her hands tightly over her eyes, only peering
between her fingers when she thought no one was noticing.
She had behaved after the same fashion all the way from Boston, as Mr.
Wales told his wife in a whisper. The two were a little dismayed, at the
whole appearance of the small apprentice; to tell the truth, she was not
in the least what they had expected. They had been revolving this
scheme of taking "a bound girl" for some time in their minds; and,
Samuel Wales' gossip in Boston, Sam Vaughan, had been requested to
keep a lookout for a suitable person.
So, when word came that one had been found, Mr. Wales had started at
once for the city. When he saw the child, he was dismayed. He had
expected to see a girl of ten; this one was hardly five, and she had
anything but the demure and decorous air which his Puritan mind
esteemed becoming and appropriate in a little maiden. Her hair was
black and curled tightly, instead of being brown and straight parted in
the middle, and combed smoothly over her ears as his taste regulated;
her eyes were black and flashing, instead of being blue, and downcast.
The minute he saw the child, he felt a disapproval of her rise in his

heart, and also something akin to terror. He dreaded to take this
odd-looking child home to his wife Polly; he foresaw contention and
mischief in their quiet household. But he felt as if his word was rather
pledged to his gossip, and there was the mother, waiting and expectant.
She was a red-cheeked English girl, who had been in Sam Vaughan's
employ; she had recently married one Burjust, and he was unwilling to
support the first husband's child, so this chance to bind her out and
secure a good home for her had been eagerly caught at.
The small Ann seemed rather at Samuel Wales' mercy, and he had not
the courage to disappoint his friend or her mother; so the necessary
papers were made out, Sam Vaughan's and wife's signatures affixed,
and Margaret Burjust's mark, and he set out on his homeward journey
with the child.
The mother was coarse and illiterate, but she had some natural affection;
she "took on" sadly when the little girl was about to leave her, and Ann
clung to her frantically. It was a pitiful scene, and Samuel Wales, who
was a very tender-hearted man, was glad when it was over, and he
jogging along the bridle-path.
But he had had other troubles to encounter. All at once, as he rode
through Boston streets, with his little charge behind him, after leaving
his friend's house, he felt a vicious little twitch at his hair, which he
wore in a queue tied with a black ribbon after the fashion of the period.
Twitch, twitch, twitch! The water came into Samuel Wales' eyes, and
the blood to his cheeks, while the passers-by began to hoot and laugh.
His horse became alarmed at the hubbub, and started up. For a few
minutes the poor man could do nothing to free himself. It was
wonderful what strength the little creature had; she clinched her tiny
fingers in the braid, and pulled, and pulled. Then, all at once, her grasp
slackened, and off flew her master's steeple-crowned hat into the dust,
and the neat black ribbon on the end of the queue followed it. Samuel
Wales reined up his horse with a jerk then, and turned round, and
administered a sounding box on each of his apprentice's ears. Then he
dismounted, amid shouts of laughter from the spectators, and got a man
to hold the horse while he went back and picked up his hat and ribbon.

He had no further trouble. The boxes seemed to have subdued Ann
effectually. But he pondered uneasily all the way home on the small
vessel of wrath which was perched up behind him, and there was