A DAMSEL WHO PLAYS ON THE PIANO
a little, can dance a little, speaks French a little and English indifferently, and to whom the rest of the family and outsiders generally are expected to look up. As we were talking, a woman of the street came in and crouched on the seat near the steam-heater, for it was cold outside and frost had followed the sunshine. Little Red Ridinghood noticed her poor bedraggled look, and sidled up close to her.
“Are you a poor woman?” she asked in a feeling way.
“Yes, a very poor woman, God help me,” I heard the forlorn creature reply.
“Would you take some money from me?” and Red Ridinghood fumbled for her little pocket, and having found it dropped a piece of money in the woman’s hand.
“Won’t you shake hands with me?” she asked as the little one was moving away.
“Oh, yes, if you are a good woman,” said Red Ridinghood, loud enough for all to hear.
The hand-shaking did not take place, for just then a train rushed into the station, and Dolly’s uncle, learning that it was the train he awaited, called her, and lifting her in his arms, he nodded to me and hastened towards the platform. Just before he went out the little red hood popped over his shoulder, and a childish voice cried out:
“Good-bye, poor woman.”
I looked at the “poor woman” to mark the effect of the farewell. She was leaning towards the heater, with her chin resting on her hands. There was a bitter expression on her face. I thought I saw a tear glistening on her cheek, but before I could satisfy myself as to this good sign she rose abruptly and left. I saw her slink through the crowd, the scoff of men and the scorn of women, away along the platform, through the archway, out into the dark streets, amongst the lost whence she came.
CHAPTER XXII.
MORE ABOUT THE UNION STATION.
The vast, smoky building facing the Esplanade between York and Simcoe streets is a great theater in which are enacted some of the strangest scenes in life in this city. Through it day and night a tide of human life with all its joy and misery, with all its wealth and poverty, flows continually. East, west and north, day and night, trains go thundering on their way, infusing fresh blood and vigor throughout all the land. The station and its surroundings are like some mighty fort stocked with inexhaustible supplies, sending out hourly sorties against the unlocked resources of a great country, and coming back triumphantly, laden with spoil for the enriching of the nations. At almost any hour of the day or night the scene at the Union station is an interesting one, especially to the student of human nature. Here are to be seen people of all nationalities, Canadians and Americans predominant of course, but in the busy throng can often be seen Swedes, Norwegians, Italians, Greeks, Hungarians, Danes, Germans, Spaniards, Frenchmen, Gipsies and Jews, mingling strangely under the great roof. The most interesting scenes are those witnessed on the arrival and departure of the great express trains for the east and west. Early in the morning the big express for Montreal and all points east leaves the station. For an hour beforehand the yard men begin to “make up” the train and the people arrive. Sitting patiently on their dunnage bags and rough boxes in a corner are a group of