The wind began to blow and the pear rocked up and down. It was queer the way there came a whack from the sea against the buoy with every wave. The pear rocked more and more. My! oh, my! how the sea hit against it now! Almost hard enough to send the spray away up to him. What had become of those silly postmaster’s boys? He could see nothing of the boat anywhere. It was probably behind the wharf. Not a person was to be seen on the wharf now, either. It was so late that every one had gone home.
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