her sons' wives, and she thought "Sam'l's kept that poor little gal
too stiddy at work," and wished and wished she could shelter her
under her own grandmotherly wing, and feed her with simballs to her
heart's content. She was too wise to say anything to influence the
child against her mistress, however. She was always cautious about
that, even while pitying her. Once in a while she would speak her
mind to her son, but _he_ was easy enough--Ann would not have found
him a hard task-master.

Still, Ann did not have to work hard enough to hurt her. The worst
consequences were that such a rigid rein on such a frisky little colt
perhaps had more to do with her "cutting up," as her mistress phrased
it, than she dreamed of. Moreover the thought of the indentures,
securely locked up in Mr. Wales' tall wooden desk, was forever in
Ann's mind. Half by dint of questioning various people, half by her
own natural logic she had settled it within herself, that at any time
the possession of these papers would set her free, and she could go
back to her own mother, whom she dimly remembered as being
loud-voiced, but merry, and very indulgent. However, Ann never
meditated in earnest, taking the indentures; indeed, the desk was
always locked--it held other documents more valuable than hers--and
Samuel Wales carried the key in his waistcoat-pocket.

She went to a dame's school, three months every year. Samuel Wales
carted half a cord of wood to pay for her schooling, and she learned
to write and read in the New England Primer. Next to her, on the
split log bench, sat a little girl named Hannah French. The two
became fast friends. Hannah was an only child, pretty and delicate,
and very much petted by her parents. No long hard tasks were set
those soft little fingers, even in those old days when children