An old woman with a face like a hen leaned over the back of the seat.
"What's she done? What's she done?" she demanded. The mother told her, as the grandmother comforted the hurt baby.
"Go back to your seat and stay there!" commanded the mother. "See you don't come near here again!"
My lips trembled with the anguish I could hardly restrain. Never had a noble soul been more misunderstood.
Stupid beings! How dare they! Yet, not to be liked by them -- not to be un-derstood! That was unendurable.
Would they listen to the gentle word that turneth away wrath? I was in-clined to think not. I was fairly pant-ing under my load of dismay and de-spondency, when a large man with an extraordinarily clean appearance sat down opposite me. He was a study in grey -- grey suit, tie, socks, gloves, hat, top-coat -- yes, and eyes! He leaned forward ingratiatingly.
"What do you think Aunt Ellen sent me last week?" he inquired.
We seemed to be old acquaintances, and in my second of perplexity I de-cided that it was mere forgetfulness that made me unable to recall just whom he was talking about. So I only said politely: "I don't know, I'm sure, sir."
"Why, yes, you do!" he laughed.
"Couldn't you guess? What should Aunt Ellen send but some of that white maple sugar of hers; better than ever, too. I've a pound of it along with me, and I'd be glad to pry off a few pieces if you'd like to eat it. You always were so fond of Aunt Ellen's maple sugar, you know."
The tone carried conviction. Of course I must have been fond of it; indeed, upon reflection, I felt that I had been. By the time the man was back with a parallelogram of the maple sugar in his hand, I was convinced that he had spoken the truth.
"Aunt Ellen certainly is a dear," he went on. "I run down to see her every time I get a chance. Same old rain-barrel! Same old beehives! Same old well-sweep! Wouldn't trade them for any others in the world. I like every-thing about the place -- like the 'Old Man' that grows by the gate; and the tomato trellis -- nobody else treats to-matoes like flowers; and the herb gar-den, and the cupboard with the little wood-carvings in it that Uncle Ben made. You remember Uncle Ben?
Been a sailor -- broke both legs -- had 'em cut off -- and sat around and carved while Aunt Ellen taught school. Happy they were -- no one happier. Brought me up, you know. Didn't have a father or mother -- just gathered me in. Good sort, those. Uncle Ben's gone, but Aunt Ellen's a mother to me yet.
Thinks of me, travelling, travelling, never putting my head down in the same bed two nights running; and here and there and everywhere she overtakes me with little scraps out of home. That's Aunt Ellen for you!"
As the delicious sugar melted on my tongue, the sorrows melted in my soul, and I was just about to make some in-quiries about Aunt Ellen, whose per-sonal qualities seemed to be growing clearer and clearer in my mind, when my conductor came striding down the aisle.
"Where's my little girl?" he de-manded heartily. "Ah, there she is, just where I left her, in good company and eating maple sugar, as I live."
"Well, she hain't bin there all the time now, I ken tell ye that!" cried the old woman with a face like a hen.
"Indeed, she ain't!" the other women joined in. "She's a mischief-makin' child, that's what she is!" said the mother. The little girl was look-ing over her grandmother's shoulder, and she ran out a very red, serpent-like tongue at me.
"She's a good girl, and almost as fond of Aunt Ellen as I am," said the large man, finding my pocket, and put-ting a huge piece of maple sugar in it.
The conductor, meantime, was gath-ering my things, and with a "Come along, now! This is where you change," he led me from the car. I glanced back once, and the hen-faced woman shook her withered brown fist at me, and the large man waved and smiled. The conductor and I ran as hard as we could, he carrying my light luggage, to a stage that seemed to be waiting for us. He shouted some di-rections to the driver, deposited me within, and ran back to his train. And I, alone again, looked about me.
We were in the heart of a little town, and a number of men were standing around while the horses took their fill at the watering-trough. This accom-plished, the driver checked up the horses, mounted to his high seat, was joined by a heavy young man; two gen-tlemen entered the inside of the coach, and we were off.
One of these gentlemen was very old.
His silver hair hung on his shoulders; he had a beautiful flowing heard which gleamed in the light, the kindest of faces, lit with laughing blue eyes, and he leaned forward on his heavy stick and seemed to mind the plunging of our vehicle. The other man was mid-dle-aged, dark, silent-looking, and, I decided, rather like a king. We all rode in silence for a while, but by and by the old man said kindly:
"Where are you going, my child?"
I told him.
