But that did not enlighten their companions as to the true relations between the two. They thought it only one more silly affectation of the youthful parents. Many vain young mothers called their husbands “papa” for baby, as many proud young fathers called their wives “mamma” also for baby.
So merely trivial talk passed between the father and daughter until the train blew the steam whistle and “slowed” into the first station after leaving Liverpool, stopped ten seconds and sped on again.
Jennie had not seen her native country for two years, and she looked out at the vanishing station almost with the curiosity of a stranger, and then exclaimed with a look of astonishment:
“Why, papa! That was Huton!”
“Well, my dear!”
Jennie looked at her father in amazement.
“What is the matter, my dear?” inquired the curate.
“Matter? Why, papa, matter enough. We have certainly taken the wrong train. Huton is on the Great Northern, and not the South Eastern Railroad. This is not the way to Medge.”
“But, dear, we are not going to Medge.”
“Not going to Medge?”