irection of home. Rebby pushed the big door open noiselessly, but she
did not try to replace the bar. As she crept up the stairs she could
hear the even breathing of her father and mother, and she slid into bed
without waking Anna, and was too sleepy herself to lie long awake.

The unfastened door puzzled Mr. Weston when he came down-stairs at
daybreak the next morning. "I was sure I put the bar up," he thought,
but he had no time to think much about trifles that morning, for, as he
stood for a moment in the doorway, he saw Paul Foster running toward the
house.

"Mr. Weston, sir, the liberty pole is gone," gasped the boy, out of
breath. "The rope that held it to the stake was cut," he continued.
"Father says 'tis some Tory's work."

Mr. Weston did not stop for breakfast. He told Mrs. Weston that he would
come up later on, as soon as he had found out more about the missing
liberty tree; and with Paul beside him, now talking eagerly of how his
father had gone with him to take a look at the pine sapling and found no
trace of it, Mr. Weston hurried toward the shore where a number of men
were now gathered.

Anna had hard work to awaken Rebby that morning, and when she came
slowly down-stairs she felt cross and tired; but her mother's first
words made her forget everything else.

"We will eat our porridge without your father," Mrs. Weston said
gravely. "A terrible thing has happened. Some traitor has made way with
the liberty tree that your father and Paul selected yesterday."

"Traitor?" gasped Rebby, who knew well that such a word meant the lowest
and most to be despised person on earth, and could hardly believe that
what she had supposed to be a fine and brave action could be a traitor's
deed.

"Who else but a traitor would make way with our liberty pole?"
responded Mrs. Weston. "But do not look so frightened, Rebby. Sit up to
the table; when your father comes home he will tell us who did the base
act. And we may be sure Machias men will deal with him as he deserves."

But Rebecca could not eat the excellent porridge; and when her mother
questioned her anxiously she owned that her head ached, and that she did
not feel well.

"I'll steep up some thoroughwort; a good cup of herb tea will soon send
off your headache," said Mrs. Weston, "and you had best go back to bed.
Maybe 'tis because of the birthday cake."

Rebecca made no response; she was glad to go back to her room, where she
buried her face in the pillow,