apprehension.

What would the minister and Mrs. Lyon and Melvina say to her? Perhaps
none of them would even speak to her. She had never been so unhappy in
her life as she was at that moment. She slipped out of bed; but the
moment her feet touched the floor she cried out with pain. For they were
bruised and sore.

There was a quick rap at the door, and Mrs. Lyon entered. "Good-morning,
Anna. Here are your clothes. I have pressed them. And I suppose these
are your shoes and stockings!" and she set down the stout shoes and the
knit stockings that Anna had supposed had been swept out to sea.

"When you are dressed come to the kitchen and your breakfast will be
ready," said Mrs. Lyon, and left the room before Anna had courage to
speak. Anna dressed quickly; but in spite of her endeavors she could not
get on her shoes. Her feet hurt her too badly to take off the bandages;
she drew her stockings on with some difficulty, and shoes in hand went
slowly down the steep stairs.

When she was nearly down she heard Mrs. Lyon's voice: "She is a
mischievous child, and her parents encourage her. She looks like a boy,
and I do not want Melvina to have aught to do with her."

Anna drew a quick breath. She would not go into the kitchen and face
people who thought so unkindly of her. "I will go home," she thought,
ready to cry with the pain from her feet, and her unhappy thoughts. The
front door was wide open. There was no trace of the storm of the
previous night, and Anna made her way softly across the entry and down
the steps. Every step hurt, but she hurried along and had reached the
church when she gave a little cry of delight, for her father was coming
up the path.

"Well, here's my Danna safe and sound," he exclaimed, picking her up in
his arms. "And what has happened to her little feet?" he asked, as he
carried her on toward home.

And then Anna told all her sad story again, even to the words she had
overheard Mrs. Lyon say.

"Don't worry, Danna! I'd rather have my Dan than a dozen of their
Melvinas," said Mr. Weston quickly.

When London had come the previous night with the brief message from the
minister that Anna was safe at his house and would stay the night there,
the Westons had been vexed and troubled, and Mrs. Weston had declared
that Anna should be punished for running off in such a tempest to the
minister's house. But as Mr. Weston listened to his little daughter's
story, and looked at her troubled and tear-stai