"Perhaps you'll be as well pleased if you can see Seavey's Island," replied Clare, smiling. "We passed the other day on our way to the Shoals; and sometime you must take the same trip."
For the time this suggestion satisfied Angelina, and she heard with evident pleasure all that Clare and Martine had to say about old Newcastle.
Intending to catch the last ferry of the afternoon, Clare and Martine cut short their stay at Little Harbor, delightful though they found the neighborhood with its suggestions of antiquity. They had a long walk before them—long at least for an August afternoon, and they did not reach the pier as quickly as they had hoped.
In spite of Clare's intention and Martine's efforts to be prompt, the little tug had left the landing a minute before they reached it. By close calculation, as they glanced at the time-table, they saw that they would be altogether too late in reaching home, if they waited for the next boat.
"Isn't it aggravating?" cried Martine, "to have to stand here and wait, when the distance across to Kittery is so little."
"There's nothing to do but wait," replied Clare.
Martine followed the direction in which she pointed, and saw an old man in a row-boat approaching the pier.
"Do you suppose he would take us over?"
"Why not? Let's ask him."
The two friends, with Angelina following close behind, stood on the end of the pier while the old man was mooring his boat.