As Miss Brewster stood a moment with silently bowed head and then sank into her chair there was a hush. Every one had been thrilled by the clear, quiet, intense tones of her voice, and there was an instinctive refrain from applause which marked the deep feeling which her words had created.
Dr. T—— rose to speak, but at this juncture the writer, whose office had been discovered, was politely requested by an usher to withdraw. It was subsequently learned, however, that a committee consisting of seven ladies and eighteen gentlemen was elected from those present, and they are to meet next week for selection of a superintendent, and to establish their organization.
CHAPTER XIII.
After leaving Chicago in June, we passed a wonderful fortnight among the glories of the Yellowstone Park. Here Mildred seemed to throw off all care, and to breathe freely for the first time in six months.
After leaving the Park, some of our party were called back to the East, but aunt, cousin Will, and Alice still accompanied us.
On touching the Northern Pacific Railroad again our car was attached to a train filled for the most part with immigrants.
At the stations where stops were made we always alighted to take a little exercise in walking up and down the platform, and to chat with the Indians and half-breeds, who greatly interested Mildred.
I must admit that for my part I found the wrinkled old crones and dirty braves rather disgusting, though occasionally a few who still retained their primitive adornments of vermilion paint and eagle’s feathers furnished a bit of picturesqueness that was interesting.
At one stopping-place, there being no Indians visible, we turned our attention to the crowd of European peasants who poured out of the immigrant cars, and strolling about among them we amused ourselves by studying the stolid, square faces, and giving candy to the sturdy, little flaxen-haired children who gazed in round-eyed wonder at us.
Presently I saw that Mildred, who had slipped away from me, was holding a hurried and earnest conversation with a sad-eyed little woman who with quivering lips was telling the story of how her Mann had died on the voyage and been buried at sea, and how she was left to make the rest of the long journey alone with her three helpless little ones.