ou to do," said Mrs. Stoddard, as the
captain started on his search. "I've just remembered that the Starkweather
children had good stockings last year of crimson yarn. Now it may be that
Mrs. Starkweather has more on hand, and that I could exchange my gray, as
she has stout boys to wear gray stockings, for her scarlet yarn; and then
we'll take up some stockings for you."

Anne's face brightened. "I should well like some scarlet stockings," she
said.

"I mean you to be warmly clad come frost," said Mrs. Stoddard. "Now see
that you do the errand well. Ask Mrs. Starkweather, first of all, if she
be in good health. It is not seemly to be too earnest in asking a favor.
Then say that Mistress Stoddard has enough excellent gray yarn for two
pair of long stockings, and that she would take it as a kindness if
Mistress Starkweather would take it in exchange for scarlet yarn."

"Yes, Aunt Martha, I will surely remember," and Anne started off happily.

As she passed the spring a shrill voice called her name, and she turned to
see Amanda Cary, half hidden behind a small savin.

"Come and play," called Amanda. "I am not angry if you did chase me. My
mother says you knew no better!"

Anne listened in amazement. Knew no better! Had not Captain Enos approved
of her defense of herself, and were not the Cary children the first to
begin trouble with her! So Anne shook her head and walked sedately on.

"Come and play," repeated the shrill voice. "My brother and Jimmie
Starkweather are gone looking for our cow, and I have no one to play
with."

"Is your cow lost, too?" exclaimed Anne, quite forgetting Amanda's
unkindness in this common ill-fortune.

Amanda now came out from behind the savin tree; a small, thin-faced child,
with light eyes, sandy hair and freckles.

"Yes, and we think the Indians have driven them off. For the
Starkweathers' cow is not to be found. 'twill be a sad loss, my mother
says; for it will leave but three cows in the town."

"But they may be found," insisted Anne. "My Uncle Enos has gone now to
look for Brownie."

"'Uncle Enos'!" repeated Amanda scornfully. "He's not your uncle. You are
a waif. My mother said so, and waifs do not have uncles or fathers or
anybody."

"I am no waif, for I have a father, and my Uncle Enos will tell your
mother not to say such words of me!" declared Anne boldly, but she felt a
lump in her throat and wished very much that she had not stopped to talk
with Amanda.

"I don't