The ship sent out a warning hoot. "Come on, if you're coming," she seemed to say.
"But he and I shan't meet. I'm so glad we have met—just for an hour once."
The funny little man, 'Dolly,' fussed on to the balcony, monstrously encumbered with impedimenta—a rug, a 'nest' of wicker baskets, a cap and a pair of shoes of the country, a huge bunch of bananas, and a specimen of sugar cane. The ship hooted again, and he made a hurried rush up to Winnie.
"Good-bye, Miss Wilson, good-bye," he said, dropping half a dozen things on the floor in order to give her a handshake. "I've got something for everybody, I think. I won—yes, I won—last night, and I went down to the town early and bought these presents."
"How fine! Good-bye, Mr. Wigram. Tell all the truth you can, won't you?"
He put his head on one side, in a comical seriousness. "I've been thinking—since I talked to you, Miss Wilson—that my senior class could stand a little." Another hoot! "Oh, good-bye!" he exclaimed, in an extraordinary fluster, as he picked up the things he had dropped, and made a bolt for the stairs. Winnie watched him running down the steps that led through the garden to the landing-stage.
"I think the senior class can stand a little, don't you, General?"
"You're over-young to be in it, my dear."
She turned to him. "I'm not unhappy, and I don't reckon myself unfortunate, because I think that, to some extent at least, I can learn. The only really unhappy people are people who can't learn at all, I think. Fancy going through it all and learning absolutely nothing!"
A longer, more insistent hoot! Bertie Merriam sauntered on to the balcony. No observer would have guessed that the hoot meant anything to him or that he had any farewell to make. The General held out his hand to Winnie. "I'll take the steps gently—Bertie can overtake me. Au revoir, Miss Winnie, in London!"