“Jane Leonard has him over there by the rail,” she cried presently. “Mr. Rowe and papa are close by them.”
“Then if the child is safe, we may as well stay where we are,” returned Mrs. Rowe, disposing herself upon the settee on which Molly and Pauline were now leaning.
Her words were lost in the general bustle and confusion. Soon came the cry, “All aboard!”
Visitors upon the boat rushed ashore, passengers upon the shore rushed aboard. The last to cross the gang-plank being the captain of the vessel.
Then shouts of good-by arose from the wharf, and answering shouts from the steamer; the ropes were thrown off; and with hats and handkerchiefs waving from her deck, La Bretagne slipped from her moorings and glided out into the harbor.
“Isn’t she a beauty, Molly?” cried Pauline, tapping the back of the settee in her enthusiasm.
“Who is a beauty?”
Molly glanced over her shoulder and saw a graceful young lady seated upon a camp-stool and sorrowfully gazing at the shore.
“Oh, are you speaking of that young lady in mourning, Polly? She’s pretty, but don’t you think she’s too pale?”
“I was speaking of the steamboat, you dear little innocent,” answered Pauline, laughing. “I hadn’t noticed the other lady before. How white she is, isn’t she? All the color she has is in her eyelids.”