“The postmaster and his boys came here and said that you had climbed up on the buoy farthest out. The boys had rowed back toward shore just for fun, but they met a man in a row boat who nabbed them because they had taken the Custom House boat. The boys didn’t say anything to him about you, sitting out there on the buoy”—,
“Are there many ships in sight?”,
Aunt Grenertsen was difficult to talk with—so contrary, somehow, even if not really cross, that it was very tiresome. She wasn’t the least bit like Uncle Isaac of Kingthorpe, who was always kind and gentle, always pleasant. Oh, dear, no! Aunt Grenertsen wasn’t like Uncle Isaac; far, far from it!.
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