Joanne was leaning on the deck’s rail watching the loading of freight. The black, perspiring men made much ado about it, and Joanne did not much wonder, for it seemed heavy work. She was not particularly interested in the boxes and bales, but presently she did see something which specially attracted her attention, and she leaned far over the rail to catch a last glimpse of a little black pony which came along with a dash once he gained his footing. “Take care, Joanne,” her grandmother called from her steamer chair in which she was already established, “don’t lean over too far.”…
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