“But you have not answered my question, and really I would like to be informed why I ought not to read when the cars are in motion.”
“Why, because it will ruin your eyes.”
“Oh, but how do you know that, ma’am?”
“Because mamma always said so, and eyes were business with her. She had to take care of her eyes and keep them beautiful, to please people who came to see her dance in pantomime.”
“I understand, and am convinced.”
“Why, mamma would never read in the cars, or by gaslight, or even when she was lying down; she was so careful of her eyes. She used to——”
Here the child’s voice, that had been quivering, suddenly broke down, and she sank on the floor, hid her face in the cushions of the chair, and broke into sobs and tears.
Roma gently lifted and gathered little Owlet to her bosom, bent tenderly over her, but spoke no word, for she felt it was best not to do so.
Presently Owlet’s paroxysm of emotion exhausted itself, and she got off Roma’s lap, went back to her chair, wiped her eyes, and said, penitently:
“Anybody might think I was not possessed of common sense, to behave so before the whole carload of people, and set them all to staring.”