Alice Turner Curtis, A Little Maid of Old Maine
“ On each side of the river the woods grew down to the shore, and now and then the wide branches of overhanging trees stretched for some distance over the stream. A blue heron rose from the river, making its loud call that drowned Anna’s voice as she cried: “Father! Father!” Even had Mr. Weston been near at hand he could hardly have distinguished Anna’s voice. But Anna was now too far downstream for any call to reach her father or Rebby and Paul, who were all anxiously searching for her. ”
