The Portland daily press. [volume] (Portland, Me.) 1862-1921, 1894-04-18
ON THE ROAD.

Yes 1 pity tramps. I, girl, was shell
terless once
Yes, was, and no one would take me
in was IS. Sister Rose, seven years old
en- had recently been married to a young
man employed by New York firm, deal
ers in precious stones. Great was my grief
at the wedding, greater yet when two
months after word came it was desired that
Roger should go for year to South Africa
to select and purchase diamonds. He loved
adventure. / knew at once he would go
and take Rosy with him.
They came to make us flying farewell
visit, left on Saturday to spend a goodby
Saturday with Rogers mother at the farm
in CRANKY, and Monday were to go to Bos-
ton to embark.
Then a letter came saying that the
steamer was delayed, and that they would
still remain a few days with Rogers
friends.
ssDear Rosy! You at least must have
another glimpse of her," said my mother.
'tGranby is off the railroad, but it is only
two miles from Essex and Rogers sister
lives at Essex She is just three min
utes' walk from the depot. You can have
no trouble in getting there and then see
Roger every day"
So the next morning, with my little
handbag and umbrella, my new boots and
my best hat, started blithely forth.
was going to make Rosy a surprise visit.
was not sorry that must wait some
hours at C. 1t was a city that I had often
visited, and when reached it I bought at
once my ticket for Essex at the station
and then fastened out to the stores to
look about. I wanted new gown and
thought Iwould get some samples of dress
goods to show to Rosy, and she would ad-
wise me what to buy when l should go
back. was not accustomed to shopping
alone and felt greatly excited as handled
the soft cashmeres and bright plaids and
asked their prices all myself, but when one
clerk unfolded light silver gray poplin
the color of morning mist was enchanted
with it. How it glistenad 1t was like
having dress from Maytime cloud!
It's it very costly?" asked, and when
he stated the price per yard communed
with my soul and my pocketbook and
found that I had just money enough to
compass the price Of the dress. turned
away and looked back again and again,
and finally went out of the store with a
big bundle and only cents in my pocket
book. would write home the next morn
ing, and my mother, in view of my stu
pendous bargain, would gladly send money
for my return ticket.
But I could not buy lunch. dined on
two ginger cookies that were in my bag,
and flushed and hungry hurried to the de-
pot to take the train.
eyes, said stout man of whom I
made inquiry on the station platform,
"that is the car for Essex
1t was full when I entered, and I took
my seat beside rosy checked Irish woman
with her baby. How swiftly we moved I
noticed that we passed several small sta
lions without stopping, and it was some
time before the conductor came to look at
my ticket.
s'Essex? You can't get off there" he
said.
t'Oh, am I on the wrong train" I
asked, my heart sinking within me.
"You'rs on through train. We shan't
stop but once between here and Boston,"
he answered and hurried on.
He had hard face I thought. I was
used to being pitied and petted when I
was in trouble I caught at his sleeve
when next he went by. "What can do?"
I asked.
"You can go on to Boston or get out at
Browns Junction. That S all you can do,
he said gruff1y, unheeding the tears in my
eyes.
"Poor child He's cr-a-ass mani" said
the Irish woman beside me.
never knew before how sweet is SYM
pathy. summoned all my poor little wits
and thought hard knew something Of
Browns Junction When Roger used to
come to see Rose, he once spoke, I remem-
Der, of walking over to Browns Junction
to catch train. 1t could not be very far
from Granby-perhaps only a short dis
lance. All could do was to get out there
and walk to the farm myself.
looked all around as came down the
steps of the car. Nobody seemed to leave
the train but myself. There were only two
buildings in sight, one the small depot, the
other a large, dingy white house, evident
ly an old time tavern. l went up where a
fat old man and overgrown boy were sit
ting together on the wide piazza.
(Which road leads to Granby?" asked,
putting on, as I thought, business air.
The old man looked at me with foolish
stare The odor of the tavern breathed all
around him. Innocent as I was saw he
was hopelessly tipsy. With shaking hand
he pointed his cane to the east. " But you re
not going to walk" he said. "Tim'l go
right and hitch up team. He'll carry
you 'Twon't cost you nothing either,
only $s-or, for pretty girl like you, a
dollar and half" I thought of my 5
cents. 81 prefer walking" I said, with
extreme dignity, and turned to the east
| ward.
The road, was sure, was the right one;
| but, oh, if 1 only knew just where and
| how far was to go! 1 hurried on, walk
| ing faster and faster as I passed out of
sight. At the next house would ask
| again.
At last a weatherbeaten cottage ap-
peared, and an old man with a milkpail
was crossing the road. He did not look
around till l was close to him, but his
wrinkled face was kind. Surely he would
help mel "Oh, sir, how far is it to Gran
| by?" l asked
He smiled and nodded "The women
| folks are all gone OUTCOME to the funer-
al" he said.
Chow far off is GranbyP' shrieked.
He smiled, delighted. "Oh, see nowl
I'm little hard 'er hearing. Yes, you can