“What do you want to go out here for, Lucy?” He 217 asked. Girls erupted in waves of whispering as soon as she passed them by. He, next, tried to clamber up the flying buttresses and soffits of the pier, in the hope of reaching some of the windows and other apertures with which, as a man-of-war is studded with port-holes, the sides of the bridge were pierced. Everything was fresh and bright, from the kindly manners of the Frutigen cobbler, who hammered mountain nails into her boots, to the unfamiliar wild flowers that spangled the wayside. He carried a small bag. The path he had selected conducted him to his mother's humble dwelling. "But I dread the effect your departure may have upon your poor mother.
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