A Little Maid of Old Maine

								

her father wanted a second helping of anything at the table he would
whistle and point toward it with his knife; so it might be said that
Mr. Foster whistled even at his meals.
"There's Father! There's Father!" Anna called out as they passed a big
pile of pine logs and came to where stacks of smooth boards just from
the sawmill shut the river from sight.
"Well, Danna, do you and Rebby want your basket filled with golden
oranges from sunny Italy and dates from Egypt? Or shall it be with
Brazilian nuts and ripe pineapples from South America?"
"Oh, Father! Say some more!" exclaimed Anna, laughing with delight; for
she never tired of hearing her father tell of the wonderful fruits of
far-off lands that he had seen in his sailor days, before he came to
live in the little settlement of Machias, in the Province of Maine, and
manage the big sawmill.
"Father, tell us, is the Polly coming up the bay?" Rebecca asked
eagerly. She had a particular reason for wanting the sloop to reach
harbor as soon as possible, for her birthday was close at hand, and her
father had told her that the Polly was bringing her a fine gift; but
what it was Rebecca could not imagine. She had guessed everything from a
gold ring to a prayer-book; but at every guess her father had only
smilingly shook his head.
"No sign of the Polly yet, Rebby," Mr. Weston replied.
Rebecca sighed as her father called her "Rebby," and a little frown
showed itself on her forehead. She was nearly fourteen, and she had
decided that neither "Rebecca" nor "Rebby" were names that suited her.
Her middle name was "Flora," and only that morning Anna had promised not
to call her by any other name save Flora in future.
Mr. Weston smiled down at Rebecca's serious face.
"So 'tis not spices from far Arabia, or strings of pink coral, this
morning," he continued, taking the basket, "but pine chips. Well, come
over here and we will soon fill the basket," and he led the way to where
two men were at work with sharp adzes smoothing down a big stick of
timber.
In a few minutes the basket was filled, and the little girls were on
their way home.
"Would it not be a fine thing, Rebby, if we could really fill our basket
with pineapples and sweet-smelling spices?" said Anna, her brown eyes
looking off into space, as if she fancied she could see the wonderful
things of which her father spoke; "and do you not wish that we were both
boys, and could go sailing off to see far lands?"
"Anna! Only this morning you promised to call me 'Flora,' and now it is
'Rebby,' 'Rebby.' And as for 'far lands'--of course I don't want to see
them. Have you not heard Father say that there were no more beautiful
places in all the world than the shores of this Province?" responded
Rebecca reprovingly. She sometimes thought that it would have been far
better if Anna had really been a boy instead of a girl; for the younger
girl delighted to be called "Dan," and had persuaded her mother to keep