Edna Henry Lee Turpin

“ There was a dear little baby brook—how well Anne remembered it!—that started from a spring on the hillside, trickled among the under-brush, loitered through the meadow, and emptied into a larger stream that fed the river.
"Let's take off our shoes and stockings," said Anne, tripping joyfully along, "and wade to the creek. You've been there? Part of the way is sandy. Your feet crunch down in the nice cool sand. Part of the way there are rocks—flat, mossy ones. They're so pretty—and slippery! It's fun not knowing when you are going to fall down."
"There's bamboo-vines," objected Lizzie. ”

“ Callahan," said Miss Margery. "Your child doesn't trust you. You have told her falsehoods and now she doesn't believe you."
"Ain't it smart of her to take that much notice and she so little!" said Mrs. Callahan, admiringly. "Well, glory be, she's got one more dost down her."
When it was time for Anne to go, Lois wailed aloud. "I don't want sweet Honey to go! I don't want sweet Honey to go!"
"If you'll take your medicine, she'll come back to see you," promised Anne.
"Don't want her to come back—want her to stay," sobbed Lois. ”

“ Anne assented.
"It's a nice name you've given me—very much nicer than my own real name which happens to be Margery Hartman. I know your name. I heard Albert Naumann call you Anne Lewis."
"You gave Albert shoes to wear to school," said Anne.
"Yes. That is my business—to give things to people who need them. Kind people provide money for me to help the poor. Isn't that good of them?"
"It's very good," said Anne, earnestly. "Do you give them—shoes, I mean—to all the children that need them?" ”

“ While they waited in a handsome, formal parlor for Mademoiselle Duroc, Mrs. Patterson chatted pleasantly to Anne about the swings and arbors and pear-trees on the playground. But Anne sat silent, with a lump in her throat, and clutched her friend's hand tighter and tighter, while she watched for the principal's entrance as she would have watched for an ogre in whose den she had been trapped. At last—it was really in a very few minutes—Mademoiselle Duroc entered the room. While she talked with Mrs. Patterson, Anne regarded her with awe. ”

“ Miss Farlow sobbed. "I think of her day and night. A little lost child! homeless! friendless! all alone!"
"Don't, don't!" Pat put up his hand as if to ward off a blow. He hurried from the room and crouched down in a corner of the cab, staring out into the wet night. Somewhere in the darkness—in the rain—homeless—friendless—all alone—was little Anne.
Surely there was some clew that they might follow to reach the child. Miss Drayton and Pat went to 'Roseland' to hear the story from Mrs. Marshall's own lips. She could give them no help. She and her husband had done all that was possible. ”

“ This done, she consented to take luncheon and a nap, after which Miss Drayton brought Anne to make her acquaintance. When Mrs. Patterson sent them out "for a whiff of fresh air," she thrust into her sister's hand a workbag with frilly white things to tuck and ruffle. Then she drew out her box of colors. Under her deft touches, now fast, now slow, the baby face grew life-like and lovable.
"She's to be a comfort baby for a troubled little mother," said Mrs. Patterson to herself. "She must be one of the happy-looking babies that one always smiles at." ”

“ Firefly turned at last from the highway to a plantation road and stopped at a log cabin. It was a neat, whitewashed little house, with rows of zinnias and marigolds on each side of a walk leading from the road. Over the door, hung a madeira vine covered with little spikes of fragrant white blossoms. Charity, in a blue-and-white checked cotton gown, with a bandanna around her head, was working in her garden beside the house.
"Don't speak to her, Cousin Dorcas," whispered Anne. "Let me s'prise her." She jumped lightly out of the buggy and ran to Aunt Charity. "Boo!" she said. ”

“ She was content to wait. In this good world of ours, everything is sure to come out right in the end.
And then, in the mellow sunlight, down the box-bordered walk, past the sun-dial, toward the stone bench, came a little figure.
"Mr. Brown said that a lady—oh! oh! it's you!"
"Dear little Anne! dear little Anne!" She was clasped in the arms—dear, cuddly arms!—of her friend.
What laughter, tears, and chatter there were!
"But we must go home," said Miss Drayton, presently. "Pat will be there now. We'll come back to see your cousin." ”

“ Stand by the railing with your doll. Don't speak till those people pass. Now listen, little Anne. I am hiding from men who want to put me in prison. I can't tell you about it. Some day you will know. Oh, Lord! some day you must know all. Think of Uncle Carey sometimes, dear, and keep on loving him. Remember how we used to sit in the sleepy-hollow chair and tell fairy tales. My Nancy pet! Poor little orphan baby! It is hard to leave you alone—dependent—among strangers. ”

“ Anne faltered. Then she hurried on: "Can't no old orphans have Honey-Sweet. You keep the dominoes and the book and the handkerchief and the candy. And they may have my gold beads, too. But not Honey-Sweet. I'd rather have her than Christmas. There—there's a lonesome spot she just fits in."
"You'd rather give away your pretty new things than that old rag doll?" Miss Farlow was amazed.
"A million times!" cried Anne, hugging her baby fondly.
"What a queer child you are, Anne Lewis!" said Miss Farlow. "Well, well! keep your doll, of course, if you wish." ”

“ Anne had a smiling acquaintance with her and was deeply interested in glimpses of her visitors. Miss Santa Claus's real name was Margery Hartman. Her fair hair was growing silvery, but her cheeks were pink and soft with lingering girlhood and the spirit of eternal youth looked from her clear blue eyes. She was the district agent of the Associated Charities, and worked untiringly with kind heart and clear head to aid and uplift the poor around her. ”

“ I must take you with me when I go home next week."
"Where is your home?" asked Anne.
"In Washington City. I am one of the little army of government clerks," Miss Dorcas explained. "I come back every summer to spend my vacation here. I walk in the dear old garden and read the dear old books and live again in the dear old days. You do not understand now, child; but some day, if you live long enough, you will understand." ”

“ Even in the twilight, she could see that the microfila roses by the front porch were still blooming—they had been in bloom when she went away—and the Cherokee rose on the summer-house was starred with cream-white blossoms. From the windows of the old sitting-room, a light was shining and Anne hastened toward the latticed side-porch which opened into the room. As she approached the steps, a lank, clay-colored dog came snarling toward her. Two or three puppies ran out, barking furiously. Anne stopped, too frightened to cry out. ”

“ You got to shut that dog up nights," she said, as if every evening was to bring a little lost Anne wandering into danger. "To think of puttin' a po' little motherless, fatherless thing in a 'sylum," she continued. "Many homes as thar is in this world!—Le' me fry you another plateful of nice brown cakes, honey, and get you some damson preserves—maybe you like them better'n sweetmeats. Or would you choose raspberry jam?" She had thrown open the diamond-paned doors of the bookcase, now used as a pantry, and was looking over the rows of jars. ”

“ Anne felt like a bird in a nest as she sat on the roomy, white-columned porch overlooking the garden, catching glimpses through a leafy screen of the broad Potomac and the wooded hills of Virginia.
"Ah! when the leaves fall it is beautiful, beautiful," said her cousin; but Anne was sure that it could never be more beautiful than now, in the green-gold glory of a late summer afternoon. ”

“ Peggy laughed merrily, "and when we came back by Mrs. Flannagan's, I said out loud 'twas most too cool on the boat up the river and John Edward he asked if the monkeys wa'n't cute!"
"Peggy, Peggy, my child!" said Miss Margery. "Don't you know it's sinful to tell lies?"
"Yessum—lies that hurt folks. Them's little white lies. They don't do no harm."
"There aren't any white lies, Peggy. They are all black. It is wrong, it is sinful, to tell a falsehood. Remember that, my child," Miss Margery urged. "Always speak the truth." ”

“ Anne, you may sit in your bedroom or take your doll for a walk."
"Honey-Sweet and her little mother look as if they needed fresh air," said Mrs. Patterson, smiling faintly.
Excited and vaguely troubled, but walking straight with head erect, Anne went to the bridge. Against the railing leaned a familiar figure in blue overalls and slouch hat. No one else was near. The man turned.
"Nancy pet—" it was her uncle's name for her and it was her uncle's voice that spoke. "Those people are good to you? They will take care of you till—while you are alone?"
"Uncle Carey, Uncle Carey! It is you!" ”

“ Miss Dorcas crosses bridges sometimes before she comes to them. Why, there's Albert Naumann. Good-afternoon, Albert. Have you any pennies for the saving bank to-day?"
"No, madam, lady," answered Albert. "I have no time for to earn the pennies to-day. I have for to pick up the coal for mine Mutter. It makes the hands to be dirty"—looking at his blackened fingers—"but it saves the to buy coal."
"That is good, Albert," said Miss Margery, heartily, "better than earning pennies for yourself. Can you show me where the Callahans live? Anne tells me Peggy is your classmate." ”

“ Anne sat staring out into the gathering night. How bleak it was! how lonely-looking! She shivered and hugged Honey-Sweet close.
"I'm terrible late," said Martha, bustling in and hurrying to draw the curtains and light the gas. "We had to finish putting up the greens. And Master Dunlop did bother so. Nothing would do but he must 'help.' 'Help,' I say! He's one of them chillen that no matter where you turn he's in the way. You shall have tea now, Miss Anne. I know you're starving. And my blessed baby's fast asleep on the floor! Why, Miss Anne! ”

“ I was always too sociable-disposed."
"No one can ever look on you except with respect, dear Mrs. Collins," Miss Dorcas insisted. "Certainly, Anne and I shall always regard you as one of her best friends. She will want to come to see you next vacation, if you will let her."
"Let her! and thank you, ma'am," exclaimed Mrs. Collins. "Now I'm going to unload them pantry shelves. You shall have sweetmeats and jam and preserves and pickle for yo' snacks, Anne, and I want you to think of Lizbeth Collins when you eat 'em." ”

“ How would you like to go with him instead of to your Aunt Sarah?"
"Fine!" said Pat, eagerly. "I've always wanted to go camping. Good fishing, too?"
"Great. You trot along with Mr. Orton, and let him help you get the things you need. He kindly says he will."
"There's Anne, father," said Pat, looking toward the little figure hovering shyly on the outskirts of the group. "Is Anne going, too?"
"This is just a boy's camp, Pat," laughed Mr. Orton. "There isn't any room for girls in our rough-and-tumble gang."
Mr. Patterson summoned a maid to take Anne to her room. ”

“ She had a kind heart, but the girls thought her cross because she was always making a worried effort to secure the order and attention which came of themselves as soon as Mademoiselle entered the study-hall. When Miss Morris scolded—which was often, as Anne was to learn—her face grew very red and her voice very rough, and she flapped her arms in a peculiar way. Anne did not like to be scolded but she liked to watch Miss Morris when she was angry; it was strange and interesting to see a person look so much like a turkey-cock. ”

“ George Bryant says there isn't not. Tell me, Anne. Does Santa Claus really come down the chimney?"
"You stay awake and see," advised Anne.
"I'm going to. I'm not going to shut—my—eyes—all—night—long," he said emphatically.
"Marfa, don't put on any more coal," begged Arthur. "I so fwead Santa C'aus'll get burnted."
The Christmas saint accepted Arthur's offering in the loving spirit in which it was made and there was a letter of thanks in the sock around which were heaped more pretty things than he had remembered he wanted. Dunlop examined his many gifts with shrieks of delight. ”

“ Louise tapped at the door and said that Miss Anne's trunk was ready and the cab was waiting.
Mademoiselle gave Anne a stately salute and put the little package in her hand. "Ask Mr. Patterson to take charge of this packet for you," she said. "Good-by, my child. Bon voyage!"
Anne followed Louise who straightened her ribbons and tied on her hat.
"Louise," she said, in her halting French, "I've not been very much trouble to you, have I?"
"Not more than the usual. Young ladies are born to be the trouble-makers," responded Louise. ”

“ He's so nervous and high-strung," she explained to Miss Drayton.
"Papa promised me a little automobile if I'd stay at home," said Dunlop, hanging to Anne's hand. "I told him I'd rather see Anne."
"Oh!" Anne kissed him.
"'Spect I'll get the automobile anyway," reflected Dunlop. "And, Anne, I know now 'bout Santa Claus," with a cautious glance at Arthur who was cuddled in her arms.
Mrs. Marshall produced a packet which Miss Farlow had asked her to deliver,—Anne's gold beads and coral pins, and the rings, locket, and purse given by her uncle. Miss Drayton looked thoughtfully at the jewels. ”

“ After her sister's death, Miss Drayton went with a cousin for a quiet summer in the Adirondacks. Before leaving, she had meant to talk to her brother-in-law about Anne, to tell him of her sister's wish to keep the child, and to say that she herself would take charge of the little orphan. But she was so tired! Life seemed very empty and yet she shrank from any new responsibility. So day after day passed, and she went away without saying a word about Anne. ”

“ You would have amazed Anne if you had told her that Miss Farlow was still young and, with her fresh color, good features, and soft, abundant hair, really ought to be pretty. But there were anxious lines around the eyes and mouth, and the hair was always drawn straight back so as to show at its worst the high, knobby forehead. Poor, patient, earnest, hard-working Miss Farlow! She was brought face to face with much of the world's need and longed to remove it all and was able to relieve so little. She had at her disposal funds to support twenty homeless girls. ”

“ Miss Drayton's cheery voice was saying. "And do taste the toast. If it's as good as it looks, you'll devour the last morsel."
Mrs. Patterson sipped the tea and nibbled a piece of toast. "It lacks only one thing—an appetite," she announced, smiling at her sister as she pushed aside the tray. "Did you hear that? I thought I heard—is it a child crying?"
The stewardess started. "Gracious! I forgot her! A little girl's just across from you, ma'am—an orphant, I guess. She's travelling alone with her uncle. ”

“ Poor dollie!" exclaimed Anne to herself. "I do wish uncle—" she caught a fleeting glimpse of him beside the workman with the canvas bag—"if just he hadn't hurried so. How could I forget Rosy Posy? I wish that fat girl would let me hold her baby doll. She's just dragging it along."
Presently the Stout family, as Anne called it to herself, came sauntering along the deck near her. She started forward, wishing to beg leave to set the fallen doll to rights, and then stopped short, too shy to speak to the strange girl.
A lean, sour-faced man in black bumped against her. ”

“ Firefly started meekly off on a jog trot. Mr. Collins looked after them.
"Dumb brutes is got heap more sense than humans," he exclaimed. "They understands women. Now, Miss Dorcas she's whoain' and geein' and hawin' that horse at the same time, but somehow he knows what she wants him to do and he's gwine to do it."
Firefly followed the winding of the river-road mile after mile, along meadows, fields, and wooded hills, fair in the hazy sunlight. How many times Anne had travelled this road on visits to the numerous cousins! ”

“ Anne was lonely.
"It's worse than being all by myself," she reflected soberly, "to see the other children's good times and be out of them all."
She consoled herself as best she could with Honey-Sweet, disagreeing stoutly with Miss Dorcas who thought that she was too large a girl to play with dolls.
"Honey-Sweet isn't just a doll—not like those in shops," Anne explained. "Dear Mrs. Patterson made her. And she's been everywhere with me. And, Cousin Dorcas, she really is useful. I study all my lessons with her. That's how I learn them so good—making believe I'm teaching them to Honey-Sweet. ”

“ Anne knew at once. "If she tells me to walk in the fire, I shall have to go."
That was the impression Mademoiselle Duroc always made on people. She was a born general, and if she had been a man and had lived a century earlier, she would have been one of the great Napoleon's marshals and led a freezing, starving little band to impossible victories;—so Miss Morris said. Miss Morris, a stout, middle-aged, New England lady, was Mademoiselle's assistant. ”

“ Lady, they'd rather have a real elegant doll than anything in the world."
"Oh, but not the boys," protested Miss Drayton.
"Yessum—boys and girls and pa and me—all of us," insisted Mrs. Callahan. "Lump us so as to make it splendiferous. Oh, bless you, 'tain't for us. It's for the little girl that lent us the loan of her doll to get Lois to take her medicine. And the doll got ruint. Miss Margery—that's the Charity lady—she's awful cross sometimes—said we shouldn't buy a doll with the wages. But she couldn't fault a present. I never see a child love a doll like she did that Honey-Sweet." ”