Poppet handed over her letter with a sigh of relief; she had hardly dared to hope a boat would leave so soon.
Martha thanked the man, opened her green parasol, and walked on. Poppet lingered half a minute.
“If you should happen to meet him anywhere,” she said hurriedly,—“you might, you know, as you’re a sailor too: he’s a tallish little boy, with brown eyes, and his hair’s rather rough,—you won’t forget, will you?”
“Not I,” he said warmly; shaking the small hand she held out,—“a tallish little boy with brown eyes,—oh! I’d easy know him.”
Then she caught up Martha, who was beckoning impatiently, and felt a load was off her mind.
Such a morning they had! [They went] to the waxworks in George Street first, and saw bushrangers, an aboriginal murderer, and other pleasing characters, with life-like eyelashes and surprisingly beautiful complexions. Then they climbed all the way to the top of the Town Hall—Martha knew the caretaker—and had the pleasure of seeing the city in miniature far below. The Cathedral being next [135] ]door came in for a turn, but seemed rather flat after the waxworks. After that they went through the five arcades systematically, flattening their noses at each interesting window, and telling each other what they would buy if they had the money.
“[THEY WENT TO THE WAXWORKS IN GEORGE STREET FIRST.]”
It was twelve o’clock when they had finished with the Strand, and they were to meet Malcolm, who was going to take them somewhere to lunch, at half-past one.
“There’s just time for the Botanicking Gardens,” said Martha, wiping her heated face and setting her splendid hat straight at one of the narrow slits of mirror in the arcade.