the smoke drifted fragrantly back to Lydia as he tramped steadily and
strongly on down the wharf, shoulder to shoulder with his companion.

"Well, I declare for't, so it is," said her grandfather, getting
stiffly to his feet and retiring a few paces to gain a view of the
building at the base of which they had been sitting. "Why, I might
known it by this buildin'! But where's the Aroostook, if this is
Lucas Wharf?" He looked wistfully in the direction the young men
had taken, but they were already too far to call after.

"Grandfather," said the girl, "do I look pale?"

"Well, you don't now," answered the old man, simply. "You've got
a good color now."

"What right had he," she demanded, "to speak to you about me?"

"I d'know but what you did look rather pale, as you set there with
your head leaned back. I d'know as I noticed much."

"He took us for two beggars,--two tramps!" she exclaimed, "sitting
here with our bundles scattered round us!"

The old man did not respond to this conjecture; it probably involved
matters beyond his emotional reach, though he might have understood
them when he was younger. He stood a moment with his mouth puckered
to a whistle, but made no sound, and retired a step or two farther
from the building and looked up at it again. Then he went toward the
dock and looked down into its turbid waters, and returned again with
a face of hopeless perplexity. "This is Lucas Wharf, and no mistake,"