"I honestly do not know why they should so beset me. But they called me
'beggar' as well, whatever that may be; though I'm sure I am not it, if it
be an ill-seeming word."

Mrs. Stoddard had set down her milking-pail; Brownie was quietly feeding
near by; there was no one to see, and she put her arm about the little
girl and drew her near. It was the first outward show of tenderness that
she had made toward the child, and as Anne felt the kindly pressure of her
arm and looked up into the tender eyes her own face brightened.

"We'll sit here for a bit and rest, child," said Mrs. Stoddard, "and be
sure I think only well of you. Thou art a dear child, and I will not have
aught harm thee or make thee unhappy."

Anne drew a long breath, and snuggled closely to her good friend's side. A
great load was lifted from her sad little heart, for since she had come to
Province Town she could remember but few kindly words, and to have
Mistress Stoddard treat her with such loving kindness was happiness
indeed. For a moment she forgot the taunts of the Cary children, and sat
silent and smiling, her head resting against Mrs. Stoddard's shoulder.
There was a peaceful little silence between the two, and then Anne spoke.

"I would wish to know what 'traitor' might mean, Mistress Stoddard?"

"Very like to 'spy,'" answered Mrs. Stoddard. "The children meant that
your father had told the British that they could find good harbor and
provisions here. That, like a spy, he had opened the door of a friend's
house for silver."

Anne sprang from the arm that had encircled her, her cheeks flushed and
her eyes blazing. "Now!" she declared, "I _will_ throw water upon them
when I go to the spring! All that the bucket will hold I will splash upon
them," and she made a fierce movement as if casting buckets full of wrath
upon her enemies, "and sand!" she continued; "while they are wet with the
water I will throw sand upon them. 'Tis worse to say things of my father
than of me."

"Come here, child," said Mrs. Stoddard; "we will not let words like the
Cary children speak trouble us. And you will remember, Anne, that I shall
be ill-pleased if I hear of water-throwing at the spring. Come, now, we'll
be going toward home."

Anne made no response, but walked quietly on beside her companion. When
they reached the hilltop they paused again before going down the slope
toward home.

"Look, Anne! Are not the fishing-boats all at anchor? What means it that
t