She shipped her oars, and unfurled Pa Smith’s property.  It was a majestic umbrella, with an ivory crutch-handle that made it easy to hold, and lessened the chance of having it wrenched by a puff of wind from her grasp.  Again, a spasm of wonder floated across her mind, that Pa Smith should ever have parted, even temporarily, with his well-loved possession.  It was so unlike Pa Smith.  However, it was merely another instance of Mr. Macleod’s remarkable power of getting what he wanted; and ’Possum had ceased to wonder at that.  So she said, "Now, look where you’re goin’, Polly, ’cause you can be quite sure that a lot of other people won’t!" and spread her umbrella to catch the wind.