THE FAREWELL. 21 



the situation sobered her. Her great, wealthy, 

 powerful, kind friends were departing on their long 

 voyage over mysterious seas. Again and again, 

 very earnestly, she repeated the graceful, slow 

 pantomime the wave of the arms outward, the 

 eyes raised to heaven, the hands clasped finally 

 over her head. As the brown strip of water 

 silently widened between us it was strangely like 

 a stage scene the roofed sheds of the quay, the 

 motionless groups, the central figure of the old 

 woman depicting emotion. 



Suddenly she dropped her hands and hobbled 

 away at a great rate, disappearing finally into the 

 maze of the street beyond. Concluding that she 

 had decided to get quickly home with her great 

 treasure, we commended her discretion and gave 

 our attention to other things. 



The drizzle fell uninterruptedly. We had edged 

 sidewise the requisite distance, and were now 

 gathering headway in our long voyage. The 

 quail was beginning to recede and to diminish. 

 Back from the street hastened the figure of the 

 little old woman. She carried a large white cloth, 

 of which she had evidently been in quest. This 

 she unfolded and waved vigorously with both 

 hands. Until we had passed quite from sight 

 she stood there signalling her farewell. Long 



