er
stint, her mind filled with happy thoughts. To have Amanda speak well of
her dear father, to know that Brownie was safe in the barn, to possess a
white kitten of her own, and, above all, to be knitting herself a pair of
scarlet stockings made Anne feel that the world was a very kind and
friendly place. The white kitten looked at the moving ball of yarn
curiously, and now and then made little springs toward it, greatly to
Anne's amusement, but in a few moments she found that her progress was
slow, and the white kitten was sent off the broad step to play by itself
on the sandy path.

From time to time Mrs. Stoddard would come to look at Anne's knitting, and
to praise the smoothness of the work.

"Your uncle says you are to have stout leather shoes," she said. "Elder
Haven tells me that there will be six weeks' school this autumn and it be
good news."

"Shall I go to school, Aunt Martha?" questioned Anne, looking up from her
knitting.

Mrs. Stoddard nodded, smiling down at the eager little face. "Indeed you
will. 'twill be the best of changes for you. Like as not Elder Haven will
teach thee to write."

"I know my letters and can spell small words," said Anne.

"I'll teach thee to read if time allows," answered Mrs. Stoddard. "Your
Uncle Enos has a fine book of large print; 'Pilgrim's Progress' it's
named, and 'Tis of interest. We will begin on it for a lesson."

That afternoon found Anne and Mrs. Stoddard busily picking cranberries on
the bog beyond the maple grove. Jimmie Starkweather and Amos Cary were
also picking there, and before the afternoon finished, Amanda appeared.
She came near Anne to pick and soon asked if Anne was to go to Elder
Haven's school.

"Yes, indeed," answered Anne, "and maybe I shall be taught writing, and
then I can send a letter, if chance offers, to my father."

"You are always talking and thinking about your father," responded Amanda;
"if he should want you to leave the Stoddards I suppose you would go in a
minute."

Anne's face grew thoughtful. Never had she been so happy and well cared
for as at the Stoddards'; to go to her father would perhaps mean that she
would go hungry and half-clad as in the old days, but she remembered her
father's loneliness, how he had always tried to do all that he could for
her, and she replied slowly, "I guess my father might need me more than
Aunt Martha and Uncle Enos. They have each other, and my father has only
me."

Amanda asked no more quest