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'Tilda Jane

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<h2>CHAPTER VI. DEAF AND DUMB.</h2> 'Tilda Jane sat down on a bench in the corner and took the dog on her lap. The fashionably dressed woman was speaking and gesticulating earnestly in front of the man whose face was only a trifle less calm and stony than that of Ruth Ann. "I never heard of such a thing in my life—to take my sealskin coat from me in the dead of winter. Now if it was summer, it wouldn't be so bad. My nice coat that cost me four hundred and seventy-five dollars." The man listened stolidly. "And you tell me your government orders you to take ladies' jackets from them. It seems incredible!" 'Tilda Jane curiously scanned the garment under discussion. It certainly was very handsome. [76] "It is incredible, madam. The government does not wish to deprive ladies of their sealskin coats. It merely requires its custom officials, of whom I am one, to enforce the law which has been made to prevent the importation of sealskin coats free of duty." "And have you taken many jackets?" sneered the woman. The official gazed at her in frigid silence. "I'll go right back to Toronto, where I live," she said, indignantly. "I was going to buy my daughter's trousseau in New York, but I'll spend every cent at home. That's the way we will make New York suffer on account of your government being so hateful!" and she flounced from the room. The man behind the table cast a leisurely glance over the remaining occupants of the room. Then he addressed the dejected boy and girl. "Hello, you!—what's your name?" "Thaddeus and Mary Lee," said the boy, mournfully. "Brother and sister?" "Man and wife," responded the boy, lugubriously. The assistant inspector elevated his eyebrows. [77] "What ages?" "Nineteen and seventeen," sighed the lad. "Where are you going?" "To Boston." "What for?" "To look for work." "Got any money?" "Two dollars and seventy cents." "That all?" "Yes, sir." "What place do you come from?" "Chickaminga, Quebec." "You'll take the 8.15 A. M. train back to-morrow," said the man, briefly. "Now, Deutscher," and he nodded to the German Jew. The boy and girl left the room, hand in hand, with melancholy clothing them like a garment, and 'Tilda Jane gazed after them with wide-open eyes. Her attention, however, was soon distracted, for the little Jew, the instant he was indicated, sprang from his seat, extended both hands, and nimbly skipping over the floor between his numerous bundles, overwhelmed the inspector with a flood of German. [78] The inspector leaned back in his chair and at last put up a hand with a commanding, "Halt!" The old man paused open-mouthed, and the inspector went on in German: "You left your home, you crossed the sea, you wish to go to Portland to relatives—so far, so good, but where are your papers?" The old man broke into a second burst of eloquence. "Your certificate," reiterated the inspector, "your writing from the captain of the ship." The old man shook his head sadly. He had no papers. 'Tilda Jane did not understand a word of what he was saying, but his gestures were expressive, and she anxiously watched his interlocutor. "Where did you land?" asked the inspector. "In Halifax, Nova Scotia." "From what ship?" "Das Veilchen." "Captain's name?" "Strassburger." "Your name?" [79] "Franz Veier." "I'll telegraph him. That's all." "And can I not go to my friends now—at once? They are waiting, they are expecting. We have so much to say." "No," said the inspector, and as the German burst out into groans and lamentations, he waved him from the room. When the door closed, and 'Tilda Jane felt that the cold and scrutinising eyes of the inspector were fixed on her, she was stricken with sudden dumbness. How these people had talked! She could not in a month utter as much as they had said in a few minutes. The result of their loquacity had been a seeming paralysis of her organs of speech. "What's your name, little girl?" said the official, with slight geniality. Her lips parted, but no sound came from them. "Sprechen Sie Deutsch?" he asked, agreeably. She shook her head, not from any knowledge of his meaning, but to signify her disinclination for speech. "Parlez-vous français?" he went on, patiently. [80] Her head again negatived this question, and he inquired in Spanish if she knew that tongue. The shaking of the head became mechanical, and as the inspector knew seventeen languages, he addressed her successively in each one of them. After she had shaken her head at them all, he surveyed her a few seconds in meditative silence. Then he began to talk on his fingers. She was probably deaf and dumb. 'Tilda Jane joyfully uncurled her hands from the bundle on her lap. This was a safe medium of conversation, for talking on the fingers had been a favourite amusement of the orphans during silence hours; and she would not be tempted to say too much, and betray the fact that she was a runaway. Accordingly, she spelled out the information, "I am an orphan." "Where do you come from?" he asked her. "A long ways off," her finger tips informed him. "Name of place?" "I can't tell you," she responded. "Where are you going?" he inquired. "To—" she hesitated about the spelling of Cis[81]casset, but got something near enough to it for him to understand. "Any relatives there?" he spelled on his fingers. "No." "Going to visit?' "No." "Have you any money?" he next asked her, and she politely and speedily informed him that she had fifty cents. "You must tell me where you come from," came next from him in peremptory finger taps. "No, sir," she replied, with spirited movements. "Then you'll stay here till you do," he responded, and with a yawn he rose, turned his back to her, and looked out of the window. 'Tilda Jane took up her dog, and slipped out of the room. She was not frightened or sorry for the deception she had just practised. It did not seem to her that it was deception. For the time being she was deaf and dumb, and, far from being alarmed by her helpless condition, she possessed the strong conviction that she would be well taken care of. She had also ceased to worry about the board of lady[82] managers, and in her present comfortable, callous state of mind she reflected that she might stay here a year, and they would never think of looking for her in a railway station. She was lost to them, and she gaily hummed a tune as she strolled to and fro on the big wooden platform, watching the shunting engines, the busy custom-house officers, and the station yard employees, who were cleaning, rubbing, scouring, and preparing cars for further journeys. At twelve o'clock, just as she was beginning to stifle yawns, and gaze wistfully at the windows of the dining-room, a young girl in a white apron came and stood in the doorway, and, shading her eyes from the sun shining in such dazzling brightness on the snow, beckoned vigorously to 'Tilda Jane. The little girl needed no second invitation, and, with her dog limping behind her, trotted nimbly toward her new friend. "Poor little soul—she's deef and dumb," said the dining-room girl, compassionately, as she passed a group of men in the hall. "Ain't it a pity?" 'Tilda Jane did not speak or smile, nor did her[83] conscience, often so troublesomely sensitive, now give one reproving twinge. Since talking to the inspector she felt as if deaf and dumb. She had been officially proclaimed so, and in meek patience she seated herself at the table, calmly pointed to what she wished, and, being most tenderly and assiduously waited upon by the pitying girl, ate a large and excellent dinner. At the orphan asylum there had never been fare such as this, and, after she had finished her chocolate pudding, and put in her pocket a juicy orange that she could not possibly eat, she bowed her head, and internally and thankfully repeated the orphanage grace after meat. "Just look at her!" exclaimed the admiring girl. "Ain't she cute? What kind of folks must she have to let such a poor little innocent travel alone? I don't believe she's obstinate. That assistant inspector is as hateful as he can be. Come, sissy, and I'll show you to your room," and she approached 'Tilda Jane, and took her by the hand. The latter pointed to her dog, and not until she had seen him satisfy the demands of his appetite,[84] would she consent to follow her guide to a neat little apartment in the top of the wooden hotel. Upon arriving there, she thanked the girl by a smile, closed the door, and, throwing herself on her bed, was soon buried in sweet and wholesome slumber. <hr class="chap" /> [85] <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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