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'Tilda Jane

<h2>CHAPTER V. ANOTHER ADVENTURE.</h2> The quietest and most undemonstrative passenger on the night train from Boston was the shabby little girl in the corner, with the bundle beside her on the seat. The conductor, after one sharp glance, paid no attention to her, the brakemen paid no attention to her, the boy with the gum-drops and novels ignored her. She had the air of knowing where she was going, and also of being utterly uninteresting, and greatly to her relief she was left entirely to her own devices. In reality 'Tilda Jane was in a state of semi-paralysis. She scarcely dared to move, to breathe. All her life had been spent in the quiet precincts of the asylum. She had scarcely been allowed to go to the small village in its vicinity, and when she had been allowed to visit it she had seen nothing as wonderful[62] as this, for there was no railway there. It took her breath away to be whirled along at so rapid a rate. She wondered how the people dared to walk about. She wondered how she had ever had courage enough to step on board the flaming, roaring monster that had come rushing out of the woods as if it would devour the little station, the agent, herself, and her dog. But they had not been devoured, and the agent had guided her staggering footsteps toward the monster. If he had not done so, she would in her bewilderment have been left a prey for the pitiless Mrs. Minley. For two hours she sat with swimming brain, then it occurred to her that she must in some way acquaint this wonderful and frightful means of locomotion, with her desire to alight at her destination. She closely watched the people entering and leaving the car, and discovered that immediately following the entrance of a man who bawled some unintelligible exclamation, something took place that reminded her of a game played at the asylum. Certain people went out, and certain others came in and took their places. She must catch this noisy man and speak to him. [63] She patiently waited for him to pass through the car. Once he swept by her, and then some time elapsed before she saw him again. The train had been waiting for fifteen minutes at a station. A number of men had gone out, and presently come back brushing their moustaches and with toothpicks between their teeth. This must be an eating-place; and Ruth Ann said that 'Tilda Jane would arrive in Ciscasset before breakfast-time. The little girl desperately addressed a passenger passing her. "I say, sir, when do we come to Ciscasset?" "Ciscasset!" repeated the man. "We passed it an hour ago." "Passed it!" she echoed, stupidly. The man turned to a news agent sauntering by. "Here, you, send the conductor here." The conductor did not appear, but a brakeman came. "Got carried beyond your station, little girl. You're in Canada now, but it's all right; we'll ship you off at the next stop. Number eight will take you back. All ri-i-i-ght." 'Tilda Jane fell back on her seat with a strange[64] sinking of heart. She remembered now that Hank Dillson had said the conductor would "holler" Ciscasset; but, if he had done so, she had not distinguished the words in the strange sounds issuing from his mouth. It seemed as if only a few bewildered minutes had passed when someone ejaculated, "McAdam Junction!" and the friendly brakeman was beside her. She felt herself lifted from her seat, bundle and all, and swung to a platform, where she stood among a group of people. She did not know where to go or what to do, and remained as one in a dream until some one touched her shoulder. "You the little girl carried beyond your station?" "Yes, sir," she gasped, and looked up into the pleasant face of a young man bending over her. "All right; the conductor told me about you. Come in here," and he led the way to a waiting-room. "Had your breakfast?" "No, sir, but I've got it here," and she pulled Ruth Ann's parcel out of her pocket. The young man smiled and motioned it back. "Come have some hot coffee," and he passed[65] through a doorway into an eating-room, where 'Tilda Jane presently found herself seated before a steaming cup of coffee, and a plate of beefsteak and potatoes. "I ain't got any money to pay for this," she said, bluntly, to the young woman who set the tempting viands before her. "That's all right," said the girl, smiling. 'Tilda Jane picked up her knife and fork. "All right!" seemed to be a railway expression. It was immensely comforting to her, and she soberly partook of the hot breakfast, drank all her coffee, and emptied the scraps from her plate into her handkerchief. Then she approached the counter where the young woman stood. "Thank you kindly, ma'am. I've made a good meal." Then she went outdoors into the crisp morning air. The snow-storm was over, and the day was delightful—blue above, white below. It was like a fairy world. She walked to the end of the platform, unrolled her shawl, and, freeing her mummy-like dog, set his breakfast before him. He ate with[66] avidity, then, showing a disinclination to return to his bandages, hopped on his three legs along the platform beside her, his crooked tail meanwhile describing successive circles in the air. Some of the loiterers about the station gathered around him, and seeing that his bodily infirmities were a subject of mirth rather than of compassion, 'Tilda Jane, in spite of warm protests on his part, once more swathed him in his shawl, and carried him with dignity into the waiting-room. There she sat until the agreeable young man ran in and said her train was coming. Something warned her that she ought to implore him to tell some one to have a care of her—to see that she did not again get carried beyond her destination, but a kind of paralysis seized upon her tongue, and she could only open her mouth and gape stupidly at him. "You'll be all right now," he said, with a nod. "Jump when you hear Ciscasset." "Ciscasset, Ciscasset!" she repeated the name in a kind of desperation, then, as the train started with a jerk and she tumbled into a seat, she said[67] aloud, and without addressing any one in particular, "I wish to jump off at Ciscasset." "Bless the child!" ejaculated an old lady in the seat before her, "I guess this is her first journey," and turning around, she stared mildly. "Oh, ma'am," said 'Tilda Jane, "can't you help me get off at Ciscasset? The train goes so fast, an' I'm so little." "Bless the child!" said the old lady again, "of course I will. Conductor, this little girl wishes to get off at Ciscasset." "All right," said that official, hurrying by. "This little girl wishes to get off at Ciscasset," exclaimed the old lady once more, this time to a brakeman. He nodded and passed on, and presently the conductor returned and said, smartly, "Tickets!" "I ain't got any," replied 'Tilda Jane. "Then you must buy one," said the old lady; "have you got any money, my dear?" 'Tilda Jane never thought of asking the conductor if he had not been informed of her mishap. She never dreamed that the pleasant-faced young man[68] had forgotten to ask that she be carried back to the station for which she had bought her ticket. Therefore she drew her handkerchief from her pocket, untied a knot in its corner, and slowly produced fifty cents. "Is that all the money you've got?" asked the conductor, briskly. "Yes, sir." "Where do you come from?" 'Tilda Jane preserved a discreet silence. "Put it up," he said, waving his hand toward the handkerchief and immediately going away. "Oh, what a nice kind man!" said the old lady. "He's going to let you ride free." 'Tilda Jane breathed more freely, and returned her handkerchief to its place. The conductor, meanwhile, had gone to a Pullman car in the rear, where a man in plain clothes was lying back on a seat, apparently engaged in an aimless, leisurely scrutiny of the occupants of the car. "Jack," said the conductor, "there's a slip of a girl in the day car—poor clothes, shawl bundle, no money, won't tell where she comes from, making a[69] great fuss about going to Ciscasset, looks like an emigrant." "All right," said Jack, laconically, then he gave an imperceptible nod toward a trio of well-dressed young men engaged in card playing. "Want to see me nab that New York jeweller's clerk?" "Yep," said the conductor. "Got any telegrams in your pocket?" "Two." "Lend me one, and sit down here a minute." Jack got up, the conductor took the vacated seat, and waited one, two, three minutes, and then Jack reappeared from between the curtains of the drawing-room at the rear of the car. "A telegram for H.J. Bolingbroke," he called, in a loud voice; "any passenger of that name in this car?" The youngest of the three men playing cards involuntarily raised his head, started from his seat, half extended his hand, then drew back. Jack tossed the telegram to the conductor, and nodded to the young man. "Thought you were travelling under an assumed name. H. J. Boling[70]broke alias Blixton. Have you got those diamonds in your pocket?" The young man flushed painfully, while his fellow players threw down their cards and surveyed him curiously. "Trouble you to follow me to another car," said Jack, and he led the way for the detected smuggler. 'Tilda Jane saw the two men pass, and innocently stared at them, little dreaming that her turn was to come next. After awhile Jack reappeared and sat down in a seat behind 'Tilda Jane. After noticing the ineffectual attempts made by the old lady to draw the little girl into conversation, he leaned over and poured some candy into her lap from a bag he held in his hand. "Have some, sissy?" She gratefully flashed him a glance over her shoulder. "Thank you, sir." "Going far?" he asked, agreeably. "To Ciscasset," she said, feverishly. "Will you tell me when we come to it?" "Certainly. Going to visit friends?" [71] "No, sir." "Oh, going home?" "No, sir." "Your home isn't quite so near as Ciscasset?" "No, sir." "Did you bring that small dog across the ocean with you?" he asked, his keen eye noting a stirring inside the bundle. "No, sir." "Where did you pick him up?" "Some boys were goin' to drown him." "So you're a kind little girl." "I ain't as good as I ought to be," she said, warmly; "but I'm goin' to try to be better. Oh, sir, are we at Ciscasset yet?" "No, this is Vanceboro, the border station between Canada and the States. I guess you'd better come this way for Ciscasset, little girl." "Why, this train goes direct to Ciscasset," interposed the old lady. "Yes, ma'am, but this little girl is a stop-over. She'll probably go on the next train." The old lady grew suspicious. "You let that[72] child alone, sir. Where's the conductor? Conductor, I say, come here. Can't some one get the conductor? Don't go with him one step, little girl." 'Tilda Jane, grown very pale, gazed apprehensively at the man, and did not offer to leave her seat. He threw back his coat and displayed a badge. "Madam, I'm a government inspector." "A government inspector! What's that?" the old lady spluttered, eyeing him over her glasses. "Well, madam, there ain't much time for explanation, but I can tell you this much, namely, that we have to detain and examine all persons without means of livelihood who attempt to enter the United States from foreign countries." She still gazed at him suspiciously. "I never heard of such a thing. I guess this is a free country." "Yes, ma'am, and the government wants to keep it free. If you get a lot of pauper foreigners here, it'll not be free long." "This little girl is American, ain't you, sissy?" "I'm an orphan," said 'Tilda Jane, guardedly.[73] Whatever happened, she was determined not to admit too much. At this moment the conductor appeared, and the old lady hailed him indignantly. "What does this mean, sir? This little girl offered to pay her passage. I saw her with my own eyes. Now you're going to put her off the train." "It's all right, ma'am," he said, soothingly, "she'll likely be allowed to go on to-morrow." "And you'll keep that innocent child here all day, and she too frightened to breathe?" cried the old lady. "I never heard of such doings. I'll write the President! I'll show you up in the papers!" "She'll be well taken care of, madam," said the conductor. "There's a good hotel here. All detained are lodged and fed at government expense. She'll be put in charge of a chambermaid." "You're a set of villains!" said the old lady, wrathfully. "Oh, law!" groaned the conductor, "I'm sick of these fusses. Pick up her traps, Jack." "Come, little girl," said Jack, kindly, and 'Tilda Jane, seeing that the inevitable had once more over[74]taken her, rose resignedly, but the too kind and officious old lady clung to her so wildly that the two men were forced to draw her away from her. 'Tilda Jane, in a state of complete bewilderment totally unmixed with terror, for she had taken a liking to the kind face of her guide, trotted meekly after him into the shadow of a long V-shaped building. The platform was crowded with people. Two trains were standing at the station, and in a large dining-room on her right she saw thronged tables and hurrying waitresses. She was ushered into a room where there was a handsomely dressed woman with a flushed face and tearful eyes, a dejected looking boy and girl sitting very close to each other, a diminutive and poorly dressed German Jew, and a composed looking man sitting behind a small table. "I'll have to leave you now," said her guide. "Don't be scared, but speak up," and with a reassuring smile he disappeared. <hr class="chap" /> [75] <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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