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THE FORTUNE MAKES PORT
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pillared house would watch for her from among its elms, and two little ladies would run down from the curved stone steps to the wharf. They would be very old ladies, in little gray gowns. Was it Jane they were watching for, and not Great-grandfather Mark, after all? There was no clipper ship there in the Whangpoo River. How could there be?
"Dear, dear little aunties!" murmured Jane.
"Wake up," said Mark, putting an arm suddenly over her shoulder. "This is no place to sleep, though I'd like to. Think of a real bed, Alan. Ai-ya!"
Jane slid her hand through his arm. She looked back at the darkening river. The Fortune of the Indies was gone, standing out with a fair breeze for Resthaven.
