Mrs. Jervis was distressed, for her daughter was just recovering from a serious illness, and she feared the consequences of such violent emotion. Her mind worked quickly; if she could only get Ethel interested in something,—but what could she do shut up in a car? She spoke again to her neighbor.
“Didn’t you say there were some travelers in the next car not so comfortable as we are?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he answered; “a mother and three children, one a baby, going to Dalton, where the father has just got work. They look poor, and are not very warmly clad. The conductor says he can’t keep two cars warm; fuel is getting scarce; and he’s going to bring them in here.”
“Do you hear that, Ethel?” said her mother anxiously; “there’s a baby coming into our car.”
Ethel was usually very fond of babies, but now she could think of nothing but her disappointment, and only an impatient jerk of her shoulders showed that she heard.
At this moment the door opened, and the conductor appeared, followed by the few passengers from the other car, among them the shivering family with the baby. The mother looked pale and tired, and sank into the first seat.
Mrs. Jervis rose, obliging Ethel to sit up, and went toward the weary woman.
“Let me take the baby a while,” she said pleasantly; “you look tired out.”
Tears came into the eyes of the poor mother.
“Oh, thank you,” she said; “the baby is fretting for her milk; she won’t eat anything I can get for her.”