She spoke to the little pile of books lying on the table in the corner. "I cayn't--these are my own and you are strangers!"She walked across the room to take up the same magazine which Tilly had found her reading the day before. When she began reading she looked stern--poor Jane, she was steeling her heart--but in a little while she was sniffing and blowing her nose.
With a groan she flung the book aside. "It's no use, I would feel like a murderer if I don't go!" said she.
She did go. Harry Lossing made all the arrangements.
Tilly was satisfied. But, then, Tilly had not heard Harry's remark to his mother: "Alma says Miss Louder is trying to make the old lady move against her will.
I dare say it would be better to give the young woman a chance to miss her mother and take a little quiet think."Tilly saw her mother off on the train to Baxter, the Fergusons' station.
Being a provident, far-sighted, and also inexperienced traveller, she had allowed a full half-hour for preliminary passages at arms with the railway officials; and, as the train happened to be an hour late, she found herself with time to spare, even after she had exhausted the catalogue of possible deceptions and catastrophes by rail.
During the silence that followed her last warning, she sat mentally keeping tally on her fingers. "Confidence men"--Tilly began with the thumb--"Never give anybody her check.
Never lend anybody money. Never write her name to anything.
Don't get out till conductor tells her. In case of accident, telegraph me, and keep in the middle of the car, off the trucks.
Not take care of anybody's baby while she goes off for a minute.
Not take care of babies at all. Or children. Not talk to strangers--good gracious!"Tilly felt a movement of impatience; there, after all her cautions, there was her mother helping an old woman, an utterly strange old woman, to pile a bird-cage on a bandbox surmounting a bag.
The old woman was clad in a black alpaca frock, made with the voluminous draperies of years ago, but with the uncreased folds and the brilliant gloss of a new gown.
She wore a bonnet of a singular shape, unknown to fashion, but made out of good velvet. Beneath the bonnet (which was large)appeared a little, round, agitated old face, with bobbing white curls and white teeth set a little apart in the mouth, a defect that brought a kind of palpitating frankness into the expression.
"Now, who HAS mother picked up now?" thought Tilly. "Well, praise be, she hasn't a baby, anyhow!"She could hear the talk between the two; for the old woman being deaf, Mrs. Louder elevated her voice, and the old woman, herself, spoke in a high, thin pipe that somehow reminded Tilly of a lost lamb.
"That's just so," said Mrs. Louder, "a body cayn't help worrying over a sick child, especially if they're away from you.""Solon and Minnie wouldn't tell me," bleated the other woman, "they knew I'd worry. Kinder hurt me they should keep things from me;but they hate to have me upset. They are awful good children.
But I suspicioned something when Alonzo kept writing.
Minnie, she wouldn't tell me, but I pinned her down and it come out, Eliza had the grip bad. And, then, nothing would do but I must go to her--why, Mrs. Louder, she's my child!
But they wouldn't hark to it. 'Fraid to have me travel alone ----""I guess they take awful good care of you," said Mrs. Louder;and she sighed.
"Yes, ma'am, awful." She, too, sighed.
As she talked her eyes were darting about the room, eagerly fixed on every new arrival.
"Are you expecting anyone, Mrs. Higbee?" said Jane.
They seemed, at least, to know each other by name, thought Tilly;it was amazing the number of people mother did know!
"No," said Mrs. Higbee, "I--I --fact is, I'm kinder frightened.
I--fact is, Mrs. Louder, I guess I'll tell you, though Idon't know you very well; but I've known about you so long--I run away and didn't tell 'em. I just couldn't stay way from Liza.
And I took the bird--for the children; and it's my bird, and I was 'fraid Minnie would forget to feed it and it would be lonesome.
My children are awful kind good children, but they don't understand.
And if Solon sees me he will want me to go back. I know I'm dretful foolish; and Solon and Minnie will make me see I am.
There won't be no good reason for me to go, and I'll have to stay;and I feel as if I should FLY--Oh, massy sakes! there's Solon coming down the street ----"She ran a few steps in half a dozen ways, then fluttered back to her bag and her cage.
"Well," said Mrs. Louder, drawing herself up to her full height, "you SHALL go if you want to.""Solon will find me, he'll know the bird-cage! Oh, dear! Oh, dear!"Then a most unexpected helper stepped upon the stage.
What is the mysterious instinct of rebellion to authority that, nine cases out of ten, sends us to the aid of a fugitive?
Tilly, the unconscious despot of her own mother, promptly aided and abetted Solon's rebel mother in her flight.
"Not if _I_ carry it," said she, snatching up the bird-cage;"run inside that den where they sell refreshments; he'll see ME and go somewhere else."It fell out precisely as she planned. They heard Solon demanding a lady with a bird-cage of the agent; they heard the agent's reply, given with official indifference, "There she is, inside."Directly, Solon, a small man with an anxious mien, ran into the waiting-room, flung a glance of disappointment at Tilly, and ran out again.
Tilly went to her client. "Did he look like he was anxious?"was the mother's greeting. "Oh, I just know he and Minnie will be hunting me everywhere. Maybe I had better go home, 'stead of to Baxter.""No, you hadn't," said Tilly, with decision. "Mother's going to Baxter, too, and if you like, minnit you're safely off, I'll go tell your folks.""You're real kind, I'd be ever so much obliged. And you don't mind your ma travelling alone? ain't that nice for her!"She seemed much cheered by the prospect of company and warmed into confidences.
"I am kinder lonesome, sometimes, that's a fact," said she, "and I kinder wish I lived in a block or a flat like your ma.
