t seemed afraid to unfurl its
timid, quivering light in all that blackness; it burned softly, as if
for itself.

Fenella's father pushed on with quick, nervous strides. Beside him her
grandma bustled along in her crackling black ulster; they went so fast
that she had now and again to give an undignified little skip to keep up
with them. As well as her luggage strapped into a neat sausage, Fenella
carried clasped to her her grandma's umbrella, and the handle, which was
a swan's head, kept giving her shoulder a sharp little peck as if it too
wanted her to hurry... Men, their caps pulled down, their collars turned
up, swung by; a few women all muffled scurried along; and one tiny boy,
only his little black arms and legs showing out of a white woolly shawl,
was jerked along angrily between his father and mother; he looked like a
baby fly that had fallen into the cream.

Then suddenly, so suddenly that Fenella and her grandma both leapt,
there sounded from behind the largest wool shed, that had a trail of
smoke hanging over it, "Mia-oo-oo-O-O!"

"First whistle," said her father briefly, and at that moment they came
in sight of the Picton boat. Lying beside the dark wharf, all strung,
all beaded with round golden lights, the Picton boat looked as if she
was more ready to sail among stars than out into the cold sea. People
pressed along the gangway. First went her grandma, then her father, then
Fenella. There was a high step down on to the deck, and an old sailor in
a jersey standing by gave her his dry, hard hand. They were there; they
stepped out of the way of the hurrying people, and standing under
a little iron stairway that led to the upper deck they began to say
good-bye.

"There, mother, there's your luggage!" said Fenella's father, giving
grandma another strapped-up sausage.

"Thank you, Frank."

"And you've got your cabin tickets safe?"

"Yes, dear."

"And your other tickets?"

Grandma felt for them inside her glove and showed him the tips.

"That's right."

He sounded stern, but Fenella, eagerly watching him, saw that he looked
tired and sad. "Mia-oo-oo-O-O!" The second whistle blared just above
their heads, and a voice like a cry shouted, "Any more for the gangway?"

"You'll give my love to father," Fenella saw her father's lips say. And
her grandma, very agitated, answered, "Of course I will, dear. Go now.
You'll be left. Go now, Frank. Go now."

"It's all right, mother. I've got another three minu