“But she’ll be so afraid,” said Eunice, in distress; “she hates men—dearly.”
“I think she can defend herself,” said the conductor, rubbing his leg. And in spite of all that Eunice could say, he carried Weejums off to the baggage-car, where she was much disappointed at seeing so many locked trunks, when they might so easily have been nice open ones, with pink silk shirt-waists in the top tray for her to lie on.
In the morning Eunice had scarcely finished dressing when the train conductor came along, and before Mrs. Wood could stop her, she had seized him by the coat-tails, asking, “Oh, have you seen my kitty?”
Now the train conductor is a very important person, and as he has the charge of all the cars, and all the passengers that are in them, it was not at all likely that he would know anything about a little girl’s kitty. But to Mrs. Wood’s surprise, he laughed and said, “Yes, we just stole some milk for her out of some cans that were put on at the last station. Pretty cat, isn’t she?”
“I think that you must have a little girl,” said Mrs. Wood, gratefully.
“Two, madam,” he answered. “Tickets, please.”
After breakfast Weejums was brought back, and spent a happy day with Eunice and another little girl, who was allowed, as a great favor, to help put on the crimson flannel tailor-blanket, stitched with pink, while the other passengers offered compliments and sweet crackers. That night they had to change cars, and this time there was no friendly conductor to steal milk for Weejums, but a savage-eyed expressman, who charged seventy-five cents, and did not seem to love cats. In New York, Mrs. Wood was met by her sister-in-law, who had to follow her into a crowded baggage-room, filled with tumbling trunks and dozens of men, to ask for “A cat, please.”
“What will you do next, Amy?” said Aunt Maude, with a comical look. “I believe that Eunice will be utterly spoiled.”
“A VISITING LADY”