“It’s where Bonny-Gay lives.”
“Oh! indeed. Well, don’t you worry. I’ll look out for you and pass you along. Company allows only one transfer, now, but I’ll fix it. It’ll be all right. Don’t worry.”
Mary Jane had not the slightest intention of worrying. That was something she had never done until the night before, and then about her missing father. But in this brilliant sunshine, with the world all her own, so to speak, even that anxiety had disappeared. He would be sure to return and very soon. He loved them all so dearly, and even for herself, if there were none others, he would come. He couldn’t live without her; he had often told her so. Therefore she merely hoped he was having as good a time, at that moment, as she was; and settled herself serenely in her place to enjoy everything.
She never forgot the first part of that day’s ride. There were few passengers in the car and these were all men, quite able to look out for themselves; so the conductor remained near her and talked of the places they passed, pointing out this building and that, for Mary Jane’s enlightenment. She bestowed upon each an attention that was quite flattering to her entertainer, till the car turned another corner and he had to move away. People came more frequently now and at every block of their advance, the men and women seemed to Mary Jane to crowd and hurry more and more. They almost crushed her own small person, climbing past her, but she still clung sturdily to the outer corner of her seat, as her friend, the conductor, had bidden her.
“No need for you to move up, little girl. You’ll be changing after a bit, and it’ll be easier for them than you.”
Right in the very business part of the city the car stopped and he came back to her, thrusting a pale green slip of paper into her hand, and hurriedly lifting her out.
“That’s your transfer. Yonder’s your car. Give that paper to the other conductor. He’ll help you on. Say, Snyder!” he called to his co-laborer. “This kid’s for Vernon Place. Put her off at Charles street, will you? and pass her along. I’ll make it right with the company.”
Then he was gone and Mary Jane stood bewildered in the midst of a throng of vehicles, and street cars, and busy, rushing people. For an instant her head whirled, then she saw the impatient beckoning of conductor Snyder, and swung herself toward the waiting car. A man, into whose path she had hopped, caught her up and placed her on the platform, and again she was off.
But this time she was merely one of a crowd and the ticket collecting kept Mr. Snyder too busy to bother with any single passenger. Indeed, some slight hindrance just as they reached Charles street put Mary Jane and her destination quite out of mind, and it was not until they had gone some blocks beyond and he had chanced to come near her again that she ventured to ask:
“Are we almost there?”