Dorothy's Travels

“ALLOW ME! AND HELPED MOLLY UP.” Dorothy’s Travels.

“All aboard—what’s goin’! All ashore—what ain’t!”
The stentorian shout of the colored steward, so close to Dorothy’s ear, made her jump aside with a little scream. Then as she saw that the boat hands were about to draw the gang plank back to the steamer’s deck, she gave another little cry and fairly pushed Alfaretta toward it.
“Never mind hugging me now, girlie, you must go or you’ll be left!”
But the lassie from the mountain only smiled and answered:
“I don’t mind if I am. Look a-here!” and with that she pulled a shabby purse from the front of her blouse and triumphantly displayed its contents.
“Oh! Alfy! How’ll you ever get back?”
“Easy as preachin’. I—”
But Dorothy had no further time to waste in argument. Here were Jim Barlow and Monty Stark shaking either hand and bidding a hasty good-by, while Molly Breckenridge was fairly dancing up and down in her anxiety lest the lads should also be left on board, as Alfaretta was likely to be.
But they were not. Another second they had bounded down the stairs from the saloon to the lower deck, a workman had obligingly caught Monty by his coat collar and laughingly flung him over the plank to the dock beyond, while Jim’s long legs strode after and made their last leap across a little chasm of water.
“Good-by, good-by, good-by!”