"Last trip up the Lake," a megaphone bellowed from the wharf; and the
lights of the little steam-boat came dancing out of the darkness.
"No use waiting here; shall we run up the Lake?" Harney suggested.
They pushed their way back to the edge of the water just as the
gang-plank lowered from the white side of the boat. The electric light
at the end of the wharf flashed full on the descending passengers, and
among them Charity caught sight of Julia Hawes, her white feather askew,
and the face under it flushed with coarse laughter. As she stepped from
the gang-plank she stopped short, her dark-ringed eyes darting malice.
"Hullo, Charity Royall!" she called out; and then, looking back over
her shoulder: "Didn't I tell you it was a family party? Here's grandpa's
little daughter come to take him home!"
A snigger ran through the group; and then, towering above them, and
steadying himself by the hand-rail in a desperate effort at erectness,
Mr. Royall stepped stiffly ashore. Like the young men of the party, he
wore a secret society emblem in the buttonhole of his black frock-coat.
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