The morning call., 1891-07-25
A LITTLE TRAVELLER.
BY SARAH o. JEWETT.


pleasant visit TO them was over. | had a
long Journey to lake before / reached home,
and ! was TO take il alone. / did not mind
this. in one way, for have grown used to
travelling by myself, but l felt lonely enough
that day after the cars had started. How
ever, was lucky in having most comfort
able section III the Sleeping-car, and was well
provided with books and lunch and pleasant
thoughts. Sc, after had looked miserably
out of the window at nothing for half an
hour, Gegan TO settle myself comfortably
for the day or two ! must spend in the train.
There we're several passengers, but no one
whom ! had ever seen before, and it was
some time before / lost the feeling that
was with a company Of unknown people,
and began to take an interest in my fellow
travellers separately. There were the usual
young couple in very new clothes. who tried
TO make US believe they had been married
these ten years, and there were two elderly
women who knew each other and we're
iourneying together, loudly talking over
parish and neighbour God matters by the
way. Not far from me was a round, red
checked old lady in a somewhat fantastic
dress, with a big bonnet all covered over
with ends Of narrow ribbons and lusterleSs
bugles. / am sure she had made il herself
r great deal of small luggage in the COM
partment with her, and | thought she must
be changing her home, for she never could
be taking so many and such cuTious-loOking
packages for visit. Besides these people
there were four or five business men and
Catholic priest, and just opposite my own
place was little girl.
For some time | supposed she belonged to
some one in the ear and had chosen 10 sit by
herself fog while and look out OF the win
dow. Then l thought her father must have
left her TO go 10 some other part of the train
where be had found some one TO talk with.
But two hours went by and it was toward
noon, and l watched the little thing grow
sleepy and at last put her head down on the
seat. aud the doll that she had held so care
fully slid down on the floor. l picked it up
and placed II on her arm again so that she
might find it wien she awOke. | had no.
ticed that the conductor had spoken TO her
and | thought l would ask him about her
when he next came along.
She did not sleep very long, the stopping
of the train startled her. and when she
opened her eyes l smiled at her and beck
oned her to come to me-. So she climbed into
the seat beside NE, still holding the doll and
/ asked her what It's name was, and If she
was alone, and where she was going. She
looked up graveIy into my face and told me
the dolls name and her own, and then she
did not say anything more. She was
younger than l had thought at first and yet
she was grave aud sober and >addened.
Isn't your papa with youP said |, but she
only shook her head and looked ny at me
again IS she sat beside me. l was strangely
drawn 10 the little thing; she puzzled me,
and she was so wstful. She seemed con-
tented and we both looked out of the win
dow aud talked now and then about the
things we saw. She sat in NY lap so she
could see better.
After some time she said to me, mother
in hal flor ipcr
she expected me to say something; but what
could l say, except that | was sorry?-
though there was all that wonder in her
face ut having been brought in contact with
so great mystery. This new, undresmed-of,
uncomfortable change was almost too much
for her mind to recognize at all. but she had
been shocked by il, and everything was diff
feTent from what 1t used to be. She knew
that any rate.
Poor little girl" said I.
She said she was going to die" the child
told me, still watching me with her sad and
curious eyes as if every body knew the secret
of it all and would not tell her.
~ GU will know all about it when you are
older, dear, and you will see her again by
ana by said. but she shook her head.
''She Isn't coming back any more" she
told me, as if she were sure Of that at any
rate.
Il an going to have my lunch now" said
|, land you will have some too, wont you"
She was very hungry, aud l was more
pltiful than ever, for the fact of her friend
lleSSness grew more and more plain. She
had very nice ways; she evidently had been
brought up carefully, and there was quaint
dignity and reserve about her; she did moth.
ing in hurry, as if she had never been
with other children at all and had learned
no childish or impatient ways. l noticed
her clothes, which were beginning to look
worn and outgrown, but were very clean
and well-kept. 1t was on the edge of win
Ter, but she still wore what must have been
her last summers hat, little iegh0rn hat
trimmed with white ribbon, and over her
shoulders she had one of the smallest of
plaid shawls folded corner wise, and pinned
over neatly. She had some mittens, but she
had taken those off and put them together
on the window ledge.
Presently the conductor came In, evil
IDENTITY IN hurry. and when he saw that
We had been lunching together, he looked
as II weight had been taken off his mind
Il am very much obliged to you," he said
to me; 81 meant TO take her out and give
her some dinner when we stopped, but got
dispatch that something was wrong up
the line. and | had 10 fly around as fast as l
could. | only got part of cup of coffee
myself"
is she under your care~ l asked.
the conductor moved the little girl to a
seat facing mine, and bent over to tell me.
She's left alone in the world. Her father
was friend Of mine, freight conductor
on the road, and he was killed pretty near
two years ago. His wife was a nice little
woman and the company helped her some,
and she sewed ana got along very well for a
While, but she never had any health, and
she died last Sunday, of the pneumonia,
very sudden-buried day before yesterday.
1he folks IN the house sent a dispatch to
sister in Boston they'd heard her speak of,
and she answered right off that she'd take
the child. They can't sell off what little
stuff there Is until they hear from her. My
wife told me how things were, and l spoke
TO the Superintendent and said I'd take her
on Tree. I'd taken her home myself and
welcome, but as long as she has folks of her
own she'd better go to them. l don't be-
heve much in fetching up other peoples
children, but the last thing told my wife
as | came cut of the house was that IL
didn't like the looks of the woman that
comes for her would just bring ner back
again. She's the best little thing l ever
saw; seems as IL she knew what had hap
pened and was trying to make the best Of
il. l found this Pullman wasn't full, and |
thought she could move around in here
more than in any Of the other cars. There
amt much travel at this time Of the year"
I'll take the best care can of her," said
Il ~ going TO Boston" and the conductor
nodded and touched Nelly's cheek and dis
appeared.
She seemed to look upon everybody as her
"
steps to the other end Of the car, and the
bride, who was a pleasant-look girl,
spoke to her kindly and gave her some can
dy, but | am sure that presently the child
said, as she had said to me, that her mother
was dead, for saw the girl bend over and
flush a little, while her eyes filed with
tears. l dare say she thought of her own
mother whom she had lately left, and she
put her arm around the child aud kissed
her. and afterward seemed to be telling her
story, at which she smiled now and then.
read for a while, but in the middle of
the afternoon l fell asleep, and when l
walked again the car-lanps were lighted, and |
looked for the little traveller, who was stand
ing in the passage-way of the car. She had
taken off her hat and there was evidently
something wrong with II. for she was look.
ing at 1t anxlously. and trying to fasten
something that had broken. I tried to
beckon her TO me, but in the Sc at Just beside
her was the priest, a stout. Insympathetic-
looking old gentleman, and 1 was half
amused and half touched to see her give
the hat to him and show him where to fast
en- the strap OF it He was evidently much
confused; lie even blushed; but he did what
she asked him, with his clumsy fingers. and