. Pierce,"
replied Mrs. Freeman.

"But she lives way off in that lonesome place where she never sees
pretty things. She'd be pleased with anything," said Rose, who almost
wished that her mother would keep the pretty shawl.

"That's why I want to send this to her," responded Mrs. Freeman. "If she
had all sorts of nice things I wouldn't do it; I'd just send her a cake
with my love."

"Send the cake, too," said Mr. Freeman, who had followed his wife. "Send
the cake with my love."

"Why, so I will," said Mrs. Freeman. "Caroline made two excellent loaves
of spice cake this very day and we can well spare one of them. But you
children must trot off to bed. It's been a very exciting day."

Little Millicent was quite ready for bed, but neither Anne nor Rose was
sleepy, and Rose followed her little friend into her room.

"See how clear the night is, Anne," she said, looking out of the window
toward the harbor. "The water looks like a mirror."

Anne came and stood beside her. Her thoughts traveled across the smooth
waters to the little house in Province Town. "I shouldn't wonder if Aunt
Martha were looking out at the water and thinking about me," she said,
drawing a little nearer to the tall girl beside her. "I wish she knew
how good everybody is to me."

Rose put her arm about the little girl. "She expects everybody to be
good to you, Anne," she responded; "but I have thought of something that
you can do for Mrs. Stoddard that I am sure will please her, and will be
something that she will always like to keep."

"What is it, Rose?" and Anne's voice was very eager.

"Let's sit down here on the window-seat, and I'll tell you. You have
learned to write, haven't you, Anne?"

"Not very well," confessed the little girl.

"All the better, for what I want you to do will teach you to write as
neatly as possible. I want you to write a book."

"A book!" Anne's voice expressed so much surprise and even terror that
Rose laughed aloud, but answered:

"Why, yes, and you must call it 'Anne Nelson's Book,' and you must begin
it by telling what Amanda Cary did to you, and how you believed that
Mrs. Stoddard would be glad if you went away. And then you can write all
your journey, about the Indians, the house in the woods, Aunt Anne Rose,
and all that you see and do in Boston."

"I haven't any paper," said Anne, as if that settled the question.

"I have a fine blank book, every page ruled, that will be just the
thing," responded R