"Oh, ho!" he cried mischievously, as the girls drew near. "What a procession! All you need is a drum and a flag."
Turning her head, Amy saw six little boys walking behind her in Indian file. There wasn't much going on at the wharf, and evidently all had thought that there would be some fun in conducting the American young ladies to the locksmith's.
Fritz himself, seated in the shade at a shop-door, looked aggravatingly comfortable.
"Why, Fritz!" exclaimed Amy, "I thought you were miles and miles away,—at Pubnico."
"Don't, don't show your disappointment too plainly. We thought that we'd better not start before the train was ready. That will not be for an hour yet. In the meantime, is there anything that I can do for you? You look a little like a lady in distress."
"Well, then, appearances are deceitful." Amy had recovered from her astonishment at seeing Fritz.
"I am sure that you are hunting for something."
"Why are you so sure?" Amy was determined not to tell.
"She is looking for something, isn't she, Priscilla?" Fritz had seen more or less of Priscilla in Boston the past winter, and naturally called her by her first name.
Priscilla shook her head,—not in dissent, but to show that she had no intention of disclosing more than Amy herself chose to explain.