She was a red-cheeked English girl, who had
been in Sam Vaughan's employ; she had recently married one Burjust,
and he was unwilling to support the first husband's child, so this
chance to bind her out and secure a good home for her had been eagerly
caught at.
The small Ann seemed rather at Samuel Wales' mercy, and he had not
the courage to disappoint his friend or her mother; so the necessary
papers were made out, Sam Vaughan's and wife's signatures affixed, and
Margaret Burjust's mark, and he set out on his homeward journey with
the child.
The mother was coarse and illiterate, but she had some natural
affection; she "took on" sadly when the little girl was about to leave
her, and Ann clung to her frantically. It was a pitiful scene, and
Samuel Wales, who was a very tender-hearted man, was glad when it was
over, and he jogging along the bridle-path.
But he had had other troubles to encounter. All at once, as he rode
through Boston streets, with his little charge behind him, after
leaving his friend's house, he felt a vicious little twitch at his
hair, which he wore in a queue tied with a black ribbon after the
fashion of the period. Twitch, twitch, twitch! The water came into
Samuel Wales' eyes, and the blood to his cheeks, while the passers-by
began to hoot and laugh. His horse became alarmed at the hubbub, and
started up.
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