She stood looking in the direction from which the steamboat was to
come; then she turned to the ticket-office, doubtless to ask the cause of
the delay. After that she went back to the bench and sat down with bent
head. What was she thinking of?
The whistle sounded; she started up, and Gannett involuntarily made a
movement toward the door. But he turned back and continued to watch her.
She stood motionless, her eyes on the trail of smoke that preceded the
appearance of the boat. Then the little craft rounded the point, a dead-
white object on the leaden water: a minute later it was puffing and
backing at the wharf.
The few passengers who were waiting--two or three peasants and a snuffy
priest--were clustered near the ticket-office. Lydia stood apart under the
trees.
The boat lay alongside now; the gang-plank was run out and the peasants
went on board with their baskets of vegetables, followed by the priest.
Still Lydia did not move. A bell began to ring querulously; there was a
shriek of steam, and some one must have called to her that she would be
late, for she started forward, as though in answer to a summons. She moved
waveringly, and at the edge of the wharf she paused. Gannett saw a sailor
beckon to her; the bell rang again and she stepped upon the gang-plank.
Half-way down the short incline to the deck she stopped again; then she
turned and ran back to the land. The gang-plank was drawn in, the bell
ceased to ring, and the boat backed out into the lake.
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