nd she ran off to find her mother and ask permission to
go to the shore with Luretta Foster, a girl of about her own age. Mrs.
Weston gave her consent, and in a few moments the little girl was
running along the river path toward the blacksmith shop where a short
path led to Luretta's home.

Anna often thought that there could not be another little girl in all
the world as pretty as Luretta. Luretta was not as tall or as strongly
made as Anna; her eyes were as blue as the smooth waters of the harbor
on a summer's day; her hair was as yellow as the floss on an ear of
corn, and her skin was not tanned brown like Anna's, but was fair and
delicate. Beside her Anna looked more like a boy than ever. But Luretta
admired Anna's brown eyes and short curly hair, and was quite sure that
there was no other little girl who could do or say such clever things as
Anna Weston. So the two little girls were always well pleased with each
other's company, and to-day Luretta was quite ready to go down to the
shore and watch for the _Polly_. Mrs. Foster tied on the big sunbonnet
which Luretta always wore out-of-doors, and the two friends started off.

"Will it not be fine if the _Polly_ reaches harbor to-day?" said Anna.
"My father says she will bring sugar and molasses and spices, and it may
be the _Unity_ will come sailing in beside her loaded with things from
far lands. Do you not wish our fathers were captains of fine sloops,
Luretta, so that perhaps we could go sailing off to Boston?"

But Luretta shook her head. "I'd much rather journey by land," she
answered; "but 'tis said the _Polly_ is to bring a fine silk gown for
Mistress Lyon; 'tis a present from her sister in Boston, and two dolls
for Melvina Lyon. Why is it that ministers' daughters have so many
gifts?" and Luretta sighed. Her only doll was made of wood, and, though
it was very dear to her, Luretta longed for a doll with a china head and
hands, such as the fortunate little daughter of the minister already
possessed.

"I care not for Melvina Lyon, if she be a minister's daughter," Anna
responded bravely. "She can do nothing but sew and knit and make fine
cakes, and read from grown-up books. She is never allowed to go
fishing, or wade in the cove on warm days, or go off in the woods as I
do. I doubt if Melvina Lyon could tell the difference 'twixt a partridge
and heron, or if she could tell a spruce tree from a fir. And as for
presents, hers are of no account. They are but doll