lacked altogether the gayety that might have been expected on the Fourth of July.
“The young people who care to celebrate are probably enjoying themselves in Salem and Lynn, and even in Boston,” said Mr. Barlow, in answer to a comment of Julia’s. “The old men are down on the water-front, or up on the heights of Fort Sewall, where they can look over the harbor. To-night, when the harbor and yacht clubs are illuminated, you will see the townspeople going out in boats—small row-boats—to enjoy the band concert; but the most of them have gone off to the city to spend the day and evening.”
“Oh, papa, just wait a minute; I want to catch that little boy!” cried Brenda, and she aimed her camera at a child who was waving, triumphantly, a whole string of bright-red firecrackers. In a minute or two the narrow street in which they were walking broadened slightly, and they had a view of the water.
“That’s the wharf!” cried Nora.
“Where?” asked Julia.
“Why, there, where those people are standing,” responded Brenda.
“Oh,” said her cousin, “I see the people, but that place there is n’t exactly my idea of a wharf.”
“Nevertheless, it’s altogether a famous one,” said Mr. Barlow. “Some of the finest yachtsmen in the country have set out from Tucker’s landing to go aboard their yachts.”
“Oh, papa, just wait another minute, while I get a
