"But I can't take you without you pay fare."
"Can't you? I've been standin' there in the rain all night, but nobody would let me on the train—all the trains is gone but this one. I'd most give up when you said, 'Git on,' er somethin'."
"Why do you want to go to Chicago?"
"Oh! I must be there fur the trial."
"Who's trial?"
"Terrence's. They think my boy, Terrence, killed a man, an' I'm goin' up to tell th' judge. Of course, they don't know Terrence. He's wild and runs around a heap, but he's not what you may call bad."
The poor woman was half-crazed by her grief, and her blood was chilled by the cold rain. She could not have been wetter at the bottom of Lake Michigan. When she ceased speaking, she shivered.
"It was good in you to let me git on, an' I thank you very kindly."
"But I can't carry you unless you can pay."
"Oh! I kin walk soon's we git ther."