Linda was still standing there watching the violet sea, so different from its morning dazzle of blue, when Jerry Holt's carryall approached. His voice was loud and defensive.
"I telled Mis' Lindsay and Madge they could sqwut to the depot till I got back," he was saying.
"Why, Jerry," said Miss Barry. "I would have let you take them home first. I thought they decided to go in the street car and walk the half-mile."
"My rule's fust come, fust served," responded Captain Jerry inexorably. "I seen you git off the train fust."
"But they have an invalid over at their house," pursued Miss Barry.
"I know they hev. Thet Whitcomb feller seen a car comin' and he said he could make it quicker'n Molly could." The Captain's feelings had evidently been hurt in the most sensitive spot. "Says I, 'Go it then, young man;' and I made up my mind to haul you fust. Madge wanted to go with him, but her mother didn't want to sqwut alone, nor she didn't want to walk the half-mile neither, so Madge stayed."
"Why, we had room for Mrs. Lindsay," said Mrs. Porter.
"No"—the driver's response was firm. "Not with all them bags and bundles." He smiled a smile of satisfaction at the punishment he had meted out. "Now, I guess I'll go back and haul 'em," he added, as his passengers alighted. "They'll be tired o' sqwuttin'. They're dretful uneasy folks, anyway. What ye lookin' at, Linda?" he added, loud and cheerfully.
The girl turned toward him, and came to meet the arrivals. "My future," she answered.
He regarded her admiringly. He had never seen her like this.