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 down stairs,
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' 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 traveller.
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.
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