WAITING

Engineer Boraeus of Borg was in the habit of strolling down to the
pier mornings to meet the steamer. He had only a short distance to
go, through his beautiful pine grove, and there was always some one
on the boat with whom he could exchange a few words to vary the
monotony of country life.

At the end of the grove, where the road began an abrupt descent to
the pier, were some large bare rocks upon which folk who had come
from a distance used to sit while waiting for the boat. And there
were always many who waited at the Borg pier, as there was never
any certainty as to when the boat would arrive. It seldom put in
before twelve o'clock, and yet once in a while it reached the pier
as early as eleven. Sometimes it did not come until one or two; so
that prompt people, who were down at the landing by ten o'clock,
often had to sit there for hours.

Engineer Boraeus had a good outlook over Lake Löven from his
chamber window at Borg. He could see when the steamer rounded the
point and never appeared at the landing until just in the nick of
time. Therefore he did not have to sit on the rocks and wait, and
would only cast a glance, in passing, at those who were seated
there. However, one summer, he noticed a meek-looking little man
with a kindly face sitting there waiting day after day. The man
always sat quite still, seemingly indifferent, until the boat hove
in sight. Then he would jump to his feet, his face shining with
joyous anticipation, and rush down the incline to the far end of
the pier, where he would stand as if about to welcome some one. But
nobody ever came for him. And when the boat pulled out he was as