Then Ann threw her blanket over her head, and got her poppet out of the chest.  The poppet was a little doll manufactured from a corn-cob, dressed in an indigo-colored gown.  Grandma had made it for her, and it was her chief treasure.  She clasped it tight to her bosom, and ran across lots to Hannah French’s.

Hannah saw her coming, and met her at the door.

“I’ve brought you my poppet,” whispered Ann, all breathless, “and you must keep her always, and not let her work too hard.  I’m going away!”

Hannah’s eyes looked like two solemn moons.  “Where are you going, Ann?”

“I’m going to Boston to find my own mother.”  She said nothing about the indentures to Hannah—­somehow she could not.

Hannah could not say much, she was so astonished, but as soon as Ann had gone, scudding across the fields, she went in with the poppet and told her mother.

Deacon Thomas Wales was very sick.  Mr. and Mrs. Samuel remained at his house all night, but Ann was not left alone, for Mr. Wales had an apprentice who slept in the house.

Ann did not sleep any that night.  She got up very early, before any one was stirring, and dressed herself in her Sunday clothes.  Then she tied up her working clothes in a bundle, crept softly downstairs, and out doors.

It was bright moonlight and quite cold.  She ran along as fast as she could on the Boston road.  Deacon Thomas Wales’s house was on the way.  The windows were lit up.  She thought of grandma and poor grandpa, with a sob in her heart, but she sped along.  Past the schoolhouse, and meeting-house, too, she had to go, with big qualms of grief and remorse.  But she kept on.  She was a fast traveler.

She had reached the North Precinct of Braintree by daylight.  So far, she had not encountered a single person.  Now she heard horse’s hoofs behind her.  She began to run faster, but it was of no use.  Soon Captain Abraham French loomed up on his big gray horse, a few paces from her.  He was Hannah’s father, but he was a tithing-man, and looked quite stern, and Ann had always stood in great fear of him.

She ran on as fast as her little heels could fly, with a thumping heart.  But it was not long before she felt herself seized by a strong arm and swung up behind Captain French on the gray horse.  She was in a panic of terror, and would have cried and begged for mercy if she had not been in so much awe of her captor.  She thought with awful apprehension of these stolen indentures in her little pocket.  What if he should find that out!

Captain French whipped up his horse, however, and hastened along without saying a word.  His silence, if anything, caused more dread in Ann than words would have.  But his mind was occupied.  Deacon Thomas Wales was dead; he was one of his most beloved and honored friends, and it was a great shock to him.  Hannah had told him about Ann’s premeditated escape, and he had set out on her track as soon as he had found that she was really gone, that morning.  But the news which he had heard on his way, had driven all thoughts of reprimand which he might have entertained, out of his head.  He only cared to get the child safely back.