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Mother’s portmanteau and hold-all on board.
I certainly went six times back and forth across
the gangway. O dear! so many boxes had to
be put on board, I thought we sbould never get
off. I nodded and nodded to every one on the
wharf. At last I nodded to Ola Bugta; but be
didn’t nod back; he just turned his quid in his
mouth.
Finally we started.
Whenever I go down on the wharf to watch
the steamboat, it seems to me almost as if it
were always the same people traveling. But
to-day there were a whole lot of different kinds
of people.
The first person I noticed was a tall old
lady who had a footstool with her. Think of
traveling with a vellow wooden footstool! If
she had onlv sat still,—but she and the
foot-stool were constantly on the go. At last she
must have thought that I looked exactly cut
out to carry the stool for her.
“ Little giri,” she said, “ vou’re a good giri,
aren’t you, and will help me a little? ” Af ter
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