The summer before they had bought a lot in Lynn, Massachusetts. They had planned the house together; and in the fall--between trips and with the help of several friends--Douglass had built a cottage. Anna hated to leave New Bedford--“a city of friends,” she called it. “But you see,” she explained to them ruefully, “the Douglass family has simply rent the seams of this little house. We have to have more room.” They had chosen Lynn because it was more on the path for Frederick’s work and because the town had a thriving Anti-Slavery Society. Came the day when they moved into their cottage. Anna washed windows and woodwork, and Lewis followed his father around, “chunking up all the holes” so that when the cold weather came they would be snug and warm. * * * * * The highway was good and the May day pleasant as the Reverend Wendell Phillips drove Douglass’ family back to their home. “How long do you think he’ll have to stay away, Mr. Phillips?” They were nearly there, before Anna dared ask the question she had been avoiding. Wendell Phillips flicked his whip. It was a moment before he answered. “It’s impossible to say, Mrs. Douglass. We’re certain he’ll render valuable service to the cause of freedom among peoples who do not know the real horrors of American slavery. Meanwhile, we’ll do what we can to see that his own return may be safe.” “Pray God the time will not be long!” Mrs. Phillips laid her hand over that of the woman by her side. Then they were at the gate and goodbyes were said. The children climbed down nimbly and rushed up the path. Anna moved more slowly. She smiled at the sight of moist, chubby Charlie in the neighbor woman’s arms. This was their youngest son--hers and Frederick’s. Poor little fellow! Anna felt her heart contract. _He_ didn’t know his father was going so far away. “Hasn’t whimpered a mite,” the neighbor had kept him during the family’s absence. “So I mixed up a pot of soup for you. It’s on the stove all ready. I knew you’d all be starved.” Anna’s voice choked when she tried to thank the good soul. The woman patted her arm and hurried homeward across the vacant lot. Small Charlie was quite happy, so Anna left him with the other children and went to the room she shared with her husband. It was very small. The wardrobe door, left swinging open, bumped against the washstand crowding the bed. Anna took off her hat, placed it on the shelf and closed the door. Moving mechanically, she emptied the half-filled bowl of water on the stand and hung up an old alpaca coat. Frederick had discarded it at the last moment. Then she stood motionless, just thinking.