Among those who looked out of the window, and witnessed granny’s frantic gesticulations was Tom.
“Aint that rich?” she uttered, in high delight.
“What’s the matter?” asked an old lady, who sat just in front, bending over and speaking to Tom.
“It’s my granny,” said Tom, laughing afresh. “She’s left behind. You ought to see her shakin’ her fist at the cars.”
“Are you laughing at your grandmother’s disappointment?” asked the old lady’s daughter, a prim-visaged maiden lady. “For shame, child!”
“I’m glad to get rid of her,” said Tom, coolly. “She aint my granny; she only pretends to be.”
“Hasn’t she had the care of you?”
“No,” said Tom. “I’ve had the care of her. She took all the money I earned, and spent it for rum.”
“What are you going to do?” inquired the old maid.
“I don’t know,” said Tom, her attention being now first called to the embarrassment of her situation. She was nearly eighty miles from New York, and this distance was fast increasing. She had no railway ticket and no money. What was she to do?