heads and scattered their petals in the winds, the early apples turned yellow on Captain Saulsby’s trees, and the blackberries ripened along the wall. The time of Billy’s visit had come to an end; the morning of his departure arrived, and he came down, dressed in his travelling clothes, to say good-bye to his dear, good friend.
He walked in past the gap in the stone wall and between the bent, old willow trees, went slowly up the path and down through the garden, not at all eager for this last parting. He did not quite know why he was so uncomfortable and depressed; he thought perhaps it might be that his stiff collar felt so uneasy against his sunburned neck and so made him miserable, more or less, all over. He was going West again; surely he was glad about that. He assured himself over and over again, that, yes, he was very glad.
Captain Saulsby was sitting smoking in the sun down by the hedge. They talked for a little while of various things, Billy somehow feeling reluctant to say that this visit must be the last.
“Got your shore hat, I see,” the Captain observed finally. “That means the end of the
