Uncle William pushed up his spectacles and peered. “I don’t seem to see anybody,” he said truthfully. He was gazing with some painstaking in the opposite direction.
“Not there. Look!—She’s gone!” He sank back with a sigh.
“Somebody you knew, like enough?” The question was indifferent.
“I thought it was—her.”
“She, now! She wouldn’t be likely to be down here this time o’ day.”
“No, I suppose not. It was just a fancy.”
“That’s all. You comf’tabul?”
“Yes—” a little impatiently.
“That’s good. Now we’re off.” Uncle William beamed on the water that billowed before and behind. He went off to find the captain.
When he came back, the young man had ceased to look toward the shore. “I made a mistake,” he said regretfully.