some buns, not so good as the English ones, but still
very good buns indeed, and two apples, which the baker's wife told her
had grown in her own garden. You could see the tree out of the back
window, by which the hospitable woman had left her sewing, and they
were, indeed, well-kept and delicious apples for that late season of
the year. Betty lingered for some minutes in the pleasant shop. She was
very hungry, and the buns were all the better for that. She looked
through a door and saw the oven, but the baking was all done for the
day. The baker himself was out in his cart; he had just gone up to
Tideshead. Here was another way in which one might have gone to
Tideshead by land; it would have been good fun to go on the baker's cart
and stop in the farm-house yards and see everybody; but on the whole
there was more adventure in going by water. Papa had always told Betty
that the river was beautiful. She did not remember much about it
herself, but this would be a fine way of getting a first look at so
large a part of the great stream.

It was slack water now, and the wharf seemed high, and the landing-stage
altogether too steep and slippery. When Betty reached the packet's deck,
old Mr. Plunkett was sound asleep; but while she was eating her buns the
dog came most good-naturedly and stood before her, cocking his head
sideways, and putting on a most engaging expression, so that they
lunched together, and Betty left off nearly as hungry as she began. The
old dog knew an apple when he saw it, and was disappointed after the
last one was brought out from Betty's pocket, and lay down at her feet
and went to sleep again. Betty got into the shade of the wharf and sat
there looking down at the flounders and sculpins in the clear water, and
at the dripping green sea-weeds on the piles of the wharf. She was
almost startled when a heavy wagon was driven on the planks above, and a
man shouted suddenly to the horses. Presently some barrels of flour were
rolled down and put on deck--twelve of them in all--by a man and boy who
gave her, the young stranger, a careful glance every time they turned to
go back. Then a mowing-machine arrived, and was carefully put on board
with a great deal of bustle and loud talking. There was somebody on
deck, now, whom Betty believed to be the packet's skipper, and after a
while the old captain returned. He seated himself by Mr. Plunkett and
shook hands with him warmly, and asked him for the news; but there