Part 3 (1/2)

But Anne shook her head. ”That wouldn't sound 'spectful,” she objected; ”and Patterson is your 'Mrs.' name.” Then her face brightened. ”Oh! Her name can be Mrs. Emily Patterson, and I'll call her a pet name. I don't like nicknames, but pet names are dear. She shall be what Aunt Charity used to call me--'Honey-Sweet.' I can sing it like she did:--

”'Honey, honey! Sweet, sweet, sweet!

Honey, honey! Honey-Sweet!'”

As Anne crooned the words over and over, her voice sank drowsily. When Miss Drayton went a few minutes later to turn out the light, Anne was fast asleep, smiling in her dreams at Honey-Sweet who lay smiling on the pillow beside her.

CHAPTER V

The s.h.i.+pboard day pa.s.sed, uneventful and pleasant. Anne had made for herself an explanation of her uncle's absence, which no one had heart to correct.

”He's nawful busy, Uncle Carey is,” she explained. ”I reckon he stayed there talking to Roger--he always has so many things to tell Roger to do!--and the boat was gone before he knew it. So he just had to wait. I 'spect he'll come on one of those other boats. Wouldn't it be funny if one of them would come splas.h.i.+ng along right now and Uncle Carey would wave his hand at me and say 'h.e.l.lo, Nancy pet! Here I am.'”

Mrs. Patterson put a caressing hand on the child's head but did not speak. Lying back in her steamer chair, she looked across the gray-green water and thought and wondered. Presently Anne crumpled her steamer rug on the deck and nestled down in it. She chirped to Honey-Sweet and wiggled her finger at the smiling red mouth, playing she was a mother-bird bringing a fat worm to her nestling. Hour after hour, while Miss Drayton and Mrs. Patterson read or talked together, Anne would sit beside them, sometimes chattering and 'making believe' with Honey-Sweet, sometimes prattling to her grown-up friends about her old home in Virginia or her life in New York.

Mrs. Patterson petted her and made dainty frocks for Honey-Sweet. Brisk, practical Miss Drayton gave Anne spelling lessons and set her problems in number work, protesting that she was too large a girl to spend all her time playing and looking at fairy-tale books, blue, red, and green.

Why, she did not even read them except by bits and s.n.a.t.c.hes, but made up tales to fit the pictures, and told over and over the stories that were read to her.

She was always ready to drop a book for a romp with Pat Patterson.

Bounding about the deck together, they looked like a greyhound and a St.

Bernard--she slim and alert, he with his rough hair tumbling over his merry, freckled face. Often their games ended by her stalking away with Honey-Sweet, in offended dignity. Pat was such a tease!

”Isn't that a pretty doll?” he said one day, with suspicious earnestness. ”I say, lend her to me awhile, Anne.”

Anne objected.

”Oh, you Anne! You wouldn't be selfish, would you?” wheedled Pat.

”Didn't I lend you my bow and arrows yesterday? And I always give you half my macaroons. Just hand her over for a minute. Let me see the color of her eyes.”

”You know they are blue--like the story-book princess,--'her eyes were as bright and as blue as the sky above the summer sea,'” quoted Anne, reluctantly letting him take her pet.

”Blue they are. D'ye know, Anne, I think she'd make a capital William Tell's child. Don't believe she'd be afraid for me to shoot the apple off her head. Let's see.”

Before Anne could interfere, Pat had suspended Honey-Sweet to a hook out of her reach. A ball of string was fixed on her head by means of a wad of chewing-gum.

Then Pat stepped back, drew his bow, and made a great show of aiming his arrow at the pretended apple.

”How brave she is! She does not wink an eyelid,” he said solemnly. ”To think! to think! If me aim be not true, I'll ki-ill me child,” he exclaimed, shaking with mock fear and dismay.

”Oh, Pat, Pat, don't!” implored Anne, grasping his arm.

”Away, away!” said Pat, drawing back. ”Me heart failed but for a moment. William Tell is himself once more. Behold!” And he took aim again.

”Stop him! stop him! Don't let him shoot Honey-Sweet!” cried Anne.

Miss Drayton looked up quickly from her book.