at the big sawmills. The river,
unusually full with the spring rains, dashed against its banks as if
inviting the little girls to play a game with it. Usually Anna and
Rebecca were quite ready to linger at the small coves which crept in so
near to the footpath, and sail boats made of pieces of birch-bark, with
alder twigs for masts and broad oak leaves for sails. They named these
boats _Polly_ and _Unity_, after the two fine sloops which carried
lumber from Machias to Boston and returned with cargoes of provisions
for the little settlement.

But this morning the girls hurried along without a thought for such
pleasant games. They were both anxious to get to the lumber yard as soon
as possible, not only to fill their basket with chips, as their mother
had bidden them, but to hear if there were not some news of the _Polly_,
the return of which was anxiously awaited; for provisions were getting
scarce in this remote village, and not until the _Polly_ should come
sailing into harbor could there be any sugar cakes, or even bread made
of wheat flour.

As they hurried along they heard the cheerful whistle of Mr. Worden
Foster, the blacksmith, who was just then taking a moment of well-earned
leisure in the door of his shop, and stood looking out across the quiet
waters of the river and harbor. As the girls came near he nodded
pleasantly, but did not stop whistling. People in Machias declared that
the blacksmith woke up in the morning whistling, and never stopped
except to eat. And, indeed, his little daughter Luretta said that when
her father wanted a second helping of anything at the table he would
whistle and point toward it with his knife; so it might be said that
Mr. Foster whistled even at his meals.

"There's Father! There's Father!" Anna called out as they passed a big
pile of pine logs and came to where stacks of smooth boards just from
the sawmill shut the river from sight.

"Well, Danna, do you and Rebby want your basket filled with golden
oranges from sunny Italy and dates from Egypt? Or shall it be with
Brazilian nuts and ripe pineapples from South America?"

"Oh, Father! Say some more!" exclaimed Anna, laughing with delight; for
she never tired of hearing her father tell of the wonderful fruits of
far-off lands that he had seen in his sailor days, before he came to
live in the little settlement of Machias, in the Province of Maine, and
manage the big sawmill.

"Father, tell us, is the _Polly_ coming up the b