"No, sir," she replied, with spirited movements.
"Then you'll stay here till you do," he responded, and with a yawn he rose, turned his back to her, and looked out of the window.
'Tilda Jane took up her dog, and slipped out of the room. She was not frightened or sorry for the deception she had just practised. It did not seem to her that it was deception. For the time being she was deaf and dumb, and, far from being alarmed by her helpless condition, she possessed the strong conviction that she would be well taken care of. She had also ceased to worry about the board of lady managers, and in her present comfortable, callous state of mind she reflected that she might stay here a year, and they would never think of looking for her in a railway station. She was lost to them, and she gaily hummed a tune as she strolled to and fro on the big wooden platform, watching the shunting engines, the busy custom-house officers, and the station yard employees, who were cleaning, rubbing, scouring, and preparing cars for further journeys.
At twelve o'clock, just as she was beginning to stifle yawns, and gaze wistfully at the windows of the dining-room, a young girl in a white apron came and stood in the doorway, and, shading her eyes from the sun shining in such dazzling brightness on the snow, beckoned vigorously to 'Tilda Jane.
The little girl needed no second invitation, and, with her dog limping behind her, trotted nimbly toward her new friend.
"Poor little soul—she's deef and dumb," said the dining-room girl, compassionately, as she passed a group of men in the hall. "Ain't it a pity?"
'Tilda Jane did not speak or smile, nor did her conscience, often so troublesomely sensitive, now give one reproving twinge. Since talking to the inspector she felt as if deaf and dumb. She had been officially proclaimed so, and in meek patience she seated herself at the table, calmly pointed to what she wished, and, being most tenderly and assiduously waited upon by the pitying girl, ate a large and excellent dinner.
At the orphan asylum there had never been fare such as this, and, after she had finished her chocolate pudding, and put in her pocket a juicy orange that she could not possibly eat, she bowed her head, and internally and thankfully repeated the orphanage grace after meat.
"Just look at her!" exclaimed the admiring girl. "Ain't she cute? What kind of folks must she have to let such a poor little innocent travel alone? I don't believe she's obstinate. That assistant inspector is as hateful as he can be. Come, sissy, and I'll show you to your room," and she approached 'Tilda Jane, and took her by the hand.
The latter pointed to her dog, and not until she had seen him satisfy the demands of his appetite, would she consent to follow her guide to a neat little apartment in the top of the wooden hotel.