l be better indeed not to puzzle the little maid.
We'll be 'Uncle' and 'Aunt' to her then, Martha; and as for her name on
the town records, perhaps we'll let the matter rest till Anne is old
enough to choose for herself. If the British keep on harrying us it may
well be that we fisherfolk will have to go further up the coast for
safety."

"And desert Province Town?" exclaimed Mrs. Stoddard, "the place where your
father and mine, Enos, were born and died, and their fathers before them.
No--we'll not search for safety at such a price. I doubt if I could live
in those shut-in places such as I hear the upper landings are."

Captain Enos chuckled approvingly. "I knew well what you would say to
that, Martha," he replied, "and now we must get our sleep, for the tide
serves early to-morrow morning, and I must make the best of these good
days."

"Captain Enos was well pleased with the pie, Anne," said Mrs. Stoddard the
next morning, as the little girl stood beside her, carefully wiping the
heavy ironware.[1] "And what does thee think! The captain loves thee so
well, child, that it would please him to have thee call him Uncle Enos.
That is kind of him, is it not, Anne?" and Mistress Stoddard smiled down
at the eager little face at her elbow.

"It is indeed, Mistress Stoddard," replied Anne happily; "shall I begin
to-night?"

"Yes, child, and I shall like it well if you call me 'Aunt'; 'twill seem
nearer than 'Mistress Stoddard,' and you are same as our own child now."

Anne's dark eyes looked up earnestly into Mistress Stoddard's kind face.
"But I am my father's little girl, too," she said.

"Of course you are," answered her friend. "Captain Enos and I are not
asking you to forget your father, child. No doubt he did his best for you,
but you are to care for us, too."

"But I do, Aunt Martha; I love you well," said Anne, so naturally that
Mrs. Stoddard stopped her work long enough to give her a kiss and to say,
"There, child, now we are all settled. 'twill please your Uncle Enos
well."

As soon as the few dishes were set away Anne wandered down the hill toward
the spring. She no longer feared the Cary children, and she hoped to see
some of the Starkweather family and hear more of the gray wolf, and at the
spring she found Jimmie with two wooden buckets filled and ready for him
to carry home to his waiting mother.

"You missed the great sight yesterday, Anne," he said, as she approached
the spring. "What think you! A wo