He picked it up and held it lovingly as he played several short bits. While not a finished performer he played with some skill and much feeling, and so absorbed were both in the performance that neither noticed the time till suddenly the boat whistled at the landing next to Beatty’s.
Ellen started up. “Goodness!” she exclaimed. “The boat will be here in another minute or so, and I must run for it. I promised to meet my friends and help with their parcels.”
“I’ll go with you,” Reed stated. “I must lock up this treasure first, but I won’t be a minute. Don’t wait; I’ll catch up.”
Ellen started at a swift pace, but Reed’s long legs bore him to her side before the bridge was reached. The boat was turning a point in sight, and the whistle for Beatty’s blew before they arrived at the long flight of steps. Down these they raced, arriving at the wharf just as the boat’s gangplank was lowered.
Miss Rindy and Mabel came ashore, laden with bundles, some of which Ellen took possession of. “You’re all out of breath,” Miss Rindy commented, “and your face is as red as a beet. What have you been doing?”
“Running for the boat. We were late getting here.”
“We? What we?”
“Mr. Marshall and I.” Ellen turned to present Reed, who loaded himself with bundles in spite of Miss Rindy’s protests.
“What’s a fellow good for if he can’t be useful once in a while?” he replied, smiling. “Hello! there’s old Tom; I’ll press him into service. Any more dunnage, Miss Crump?”
“There’s a box somewhere, but that can be sent up.”