At the turn by the blacksmith shop Mr. Weston said good-bye, and Anna went on alone to Luretta’s home. The front door was open, and before she reached the house she heard someone crying, and when she stood on the doorstep she realized that it was Luretta, and that Mrs. Foster was endeavoring to comfort her.

“The rabbits are much happier to be free to run back to the woods. Perhaps by this time they have found their mother, and are telling all their adventures to their brothers and sisters,” she heard Mrs. Foster say.

“But Danna and Melvina may have taken them,” sobbed Luretta; and then Anna rapped at the door.

“Come in,” called Mrs. Foster, and Anna, a little timidly, entered the sitting-room.

Luretta looked up, but did not speak.

“Come right in, Anna,” said Mrs. Foster pleasantly. “Luretta has bad news for you; the rabbits are gone.”

Anna did not look up, and there was an uncomfortable silence for a moment. Then she began her story:

“If you please, Mistress Foster, I am sorry I broke my promise to you this morning. You bade me to wait with Melvina by the big log, and I did not.”

“You came and took my rabbits,” wailed Luretta, “and I s’pose you gave one to that stuck-up Melvina.”

Anna nodded. “Yes, I did take them; but I meant to bring them back, Luretta, truly I did. But they got away.”

A fresh wail from Luretta made Anna look pleadingly up at Mrs. Foster, whose eyes rested kindly upon her.

“Luretta, stop thy foolish crying,” said Mrs. Foster, “and let Anna tell you all the story of the rabbits.” Then she rested her hand on Anna’s shoulder and said kindly:

“I am glad, Anna, that you and Luretta are friends, for thou art a brave and honest child. Now, I must attend to my work, and I will leave you,” and the two little girls found themselves alone in the room.

Luretta was sitting in the big cushioned wooden rocker, with her face hidden against the back. Anna was standing in front of her, trying to think of something to say that would make Luretta forgive her. Then she heard Luretta’s half-smothered voice say: “Do you s’pose our rabbits did find their mother?”

“I don’t know, Luretta, but I only meant to let Melvina play with them. We-I took them out and carried them over to Melvina’s house and we dressed them up in doll’s clothes -”

“Yes? Yes? And what else?” asked Luretta eagerly, now facing about and forgetting all her anger in hearing what Anna had to tell. So Anna went on and described all that had happened, imitating London’s cry of terror at the sight of the “white witches.” At this Luretta began to laugh, and Anna came nearer to the big chair, and even ventured to rest against its arm.

“Luretta, let’s you and I go up the trail toward the forest. Perhaps we might find Trit and Trot,” she suggested.

Luretta was out of the chair in a moment; and, quite forgetting all her anger toward Anna, she agreed promptly and the two little girls, hand in hand, came into the kitchen and told Mrs. Foster their plan.

She listened smilingly, but cautioned them not to go beyond the edge of the forest.

“You might meet some animal larger than a rabbit,” she warned them; “’tis the time when bears are about nibbling the tender bark and buds of the young trees; so go not into the wood. Beside that a party of Indians were seen near the upper falls yesterday.”

“But the Indians come often to the village, and do no harm,” said Anna.

But Mrs. Foster shook her head. She remembered that the Indians could not always be trusted. The little girls promised to follow the trail only to the edge of the wood, and started soberly off.

“We might see Trit and Trot behind any bush, might we not?” suggested Luretta hopefully.

“Perhaps we might see a little baby bear! Would it not be fine if we could catch two little bears instead of rabbits?” responded Anna, as they climbed the hill, stopping now and then to pick the tender young checkerberry leaves, or listen to the song of some woodland bird. A group of young spruce trees stood beside the trail, and here the two little girls stopped to rest. The sun was warm, and they both were glad to sit down in the pleasant shade.

They talked about the Polly, wondering when she would come to port, and then their thoughts went back to their lost pets.

“I do think you ought not to have taken them from the box. I am sure Paul will not like it when I tell him they are gone,” said Luretta.

Anna’s face grew grave. “Must you tell him?” she asked.

“Of course I must. He will bring home young leaves and roots for them to-night, and what will he say!” and Luretta’s voice sounded as if tears were very near.

While Luretta spoke Anna’s eyes had been fixed on a little clump of bushes on the other side of the trail. The bushes moved queerly. There was no wind, and Anna was sure that some little animal was hiding behind the shrubs. Greatly excited, Anna leaned forward, grasping Luretta’s arm.

“Look! those bushes!” she whispered.

At that moment a queer ball of dingy white appeared on the opposite side of the trail, and instantly Anna sprang toward it. Her hands grasped the torn and twisted piece of floating cloth, and closed upon the poor frightened little creature, one of the lost rabbits, nearly frightened to death by the strange garment that had prevented his escape.

If he could have spoken he would have begged for the freedom that his brother had achieved; but he could only tremble and shrink from the tender hands that held him so firmly.

In a moment Anna had unfastened the doll’s skirt, and Trit, or Trot, was once more clear of the detested garment.

“Oh, Danna! Do you suppose we can take it safely home?” exclaimed the delighted Luretta.

“Just see how frightened he is,” Anna responded. Somehow she no longer wished to take the little creature back and shut it up.

“Do you suppose its mother is trying to find it?” she continued thoughtfully.

“And would it tell its brothers and sisters all its adventures, just as Mother said?” questioned Luretta.

“Why not?” Anna’s brown eyes sparkled. “Of course it would. Probably Trot is safe home by this time, and all the rabbit family are looking out for Trit.”

Anna looked hopefully toward Luretta. If Trit went free it must be Luretta’s gift. Anna felt that she had no right to decide.

“Let him go, Danna,” said Luretta softly; and very gently Anna released her clasp on the soft little rabbit. It looked quickly up, and with a bound it was across the trail and out of sight.

Both the girls drew a long breath.

“I will tell Paul about Trit’s mother and brothers and sisters,” said Luretta, as they started toward home. “Probably he will laugh; but I guess he will say they ought to be free.”

Both Anna and Luretta were very quiet on the walk home. Anna began to feel tired. It seemed to her that a great deal had happened since morning. She remembered the liberty pole, with a little guilty sense of having been more interested in the rabbits, and in Melvina and Luretta, than in the safety of the emblem of freedom. But she was glad that Luretta was no longer angry at her.

“You don’t care much about the rabbits, do you, Danna?” Luretta asked, as they stopped near Luretta’s house to say good-bye.

“I am glad they are free,” replied Anna. “It would be dreadful to have giants catch us, wouldn’t it?”

Luretta agreed soberly, thinking that to the rabbits she must have seemed a giant.

“Father will say ’twas best to let them go, whatever Paul says,” she added, and promising to meet the next day the friends parted.

Anna danced along the path in her old fashion, quite forgetting Melvina’s measured steps. Everything was all right now. She and Luretta were friends; Mrs. Foster had pardoned her; and the liberty pole was found. So she was smiling and happy as she pushed open the door and entered the pleasant kitchen, expecting to see her mother and Rebby; but no one was there. The room looked deserted. She opened the door leading into the front room and her happy smile vanished.

Her mother sat there, looking very grave and anxious; and facing the kitchen door and looking straight at Anna was Mrs. Lyon, while on a stool beside her sat Melvina, her flounced linen skirt and embroidered white sunbonnet as white as a gull’s breast.

Anna looked from one to the other wonderingly. Of course, she thought, Mrs. Lyon had come to call her a mischievous girl on account of the rabbits. All her happiness vanished; and when her mother said: “Come in, Anna. Mrs. Lyon has come on purpose to speak with you,” she quite forgot to curtsy to the minister’s wife, and stood silent and afraid.