But I didn't cry, except that time at school.
At the steamboat-wharf, when we were leaving, it was only fun. The wharf was packed full of people, and they all wanted to talk to us and shake hands, and they gave Mother bouquets and gave me bouquets; and there was such a crowd and bustle and talk and noise before all our things were finally on board! Only one thing was horrid, and that was that Ingeborg the maid cried so sorrowfully. She was not going with us; she stood on the wharf by herself and cried and cried.
"Don't cry, Ingeborg; you must come and visit us—yes, you must, you must; don't cry!"
"I can't do anything else," said Ingeborg, sobbing aloud.
Now I had to go on board and the steamboat started.
"Good-bye, good-bye"—I ran to the very stern right by the flag, and waved and waved. I could see Massa and Mina on the wharf all the way to where we swung around the islands.
I stood staring back at the town.
Now Peckell's big yellow house vanished, and now the custom-house; now I could see nothing but the little red house high up on the hill; and at last that vanished too.
But I still stood there, looking back and looking back at the gray hills. Among them I had lived my whole life long!