burned-over woodland, past half-mown fields where men were haying. Then presently the dry, rough sod of wild pastures gave way to the rippling orange grass of salt marshes, and on the skyline there gleamed one sudden flash of blue.
Garth raised his head and drew a deep breath.
"Did you see it, Joan?" he said. "A little scrap of the bay!"
Though the sunshine had been burningly bright in town all day, a high fog still hung at the mouth of the bay, veiling the open sea. The Pettasantuck lifted up her deep voice majestically at intervals as she steamed toward the misty ocean.
"To think that it's the very same fog!" said Joan. "Oh, how many years ago it was that we sailed out of it!"
The hot, inland atmosphere gradually faded; the waves under the bow of the steamer grew more choppy. Joan and Garth put on their coats and stood at the rail in silence. Through the haze a line of opaque gray marked the shore, dimly dappled with green and russet. The Pettasantuck blew a mighty blast and rounded the point into Quimpaug Harbor.
