"I beg your pardon," (and her little acknowledgment of inferiority
in this speech pleased the lad, and made him her still more zealous
friend). "I beg your pardon," said she, "but I don't know where to
get a boat. Are there boat-stands?"
The lad laughed outright.
"You're not long in Liverpool, I guess. Boat-stands! No; go down
to the pier,--any pier will do, and hire a boat,--you'll be at no
loss when once you are there. Only make haste."
"Oh, you need not tell me that, if I but knew how," said Mary,
trembling with eagerness. "But you say right,--I never was here
before, and I don't know my way to the place you speak on; only tell
me, and I'll not lose a minute."
"Mother!" said the wilful lad, "I'm going to show her the way to the
pier; I'll be back in an hour,--or so," he added in a lower tone.
And before the gentle Mrs. Jones could collect her scattered wits
sufficiently to understand half of the hastily-formed plan, her son
was scudding down the street, closely followed by Mary's
half-running steps.
Presently he slackened his pace sufficiently to enable him to enter
into conversation with Mary, for once escaped from the reach of his
mother's recalling voice, he thought he might venture to indulge his
curiosity.
Pages:
561
562
563
564
565
566
567
568
569
570
571
572
573
574
575
576
577
578
579
580
581
582
583
584
585