"O, thank you so much!" exclaimed the Eastern lady, as she patted the light fluffy hair of the ten-year-old girl, clinging to her mother's skirts.
"I love little girls. We'll be good friends, won't we dear?" she asked the child.
"Yes, ma'am," answered Betty Emmit, as she furtively scanned the lady from head to foot. Mentally she was saying, "By heck! a real New-Yorker in Ephraim!"
"The New-Yorker," was amply supplied with bags—so many in fact, that Mrs. Emmit had to relieve her husband of one, big and heavy.
"The New-Yorker" made an attempt to take it from her.
"Oh, no, Mrs. Catt," exclaimed the good wife; "you must be so tired. We haven't far to go. Any trunk to see to?"
"No, I travel so much that I don't bother with trunks."
So, with this easy acquiescence, Mrs. Webster Catt walked beside her heavy-laden companions.
Betty attempted to give her mother a lift, but was shaken off kindly.
"You're too young and skinny to carry loads yet," explained Mrs. Emmit, who was herself not a great deal taller, nor stouter, than Betty.