“Of course she won’t,” said Mrs. Jervis, as she lifted the baby, who, though poorly dressed, was clean and sweet; “sensible baby! we must try to get milk for her!” She turned to the conductor.
“Isn’t there a farmhouse somewhere about here where some benevolent gentleman might get milk for a suffering baby?” and she looked with a smile at the passenger who had been giving the unwelcome news.
“No,” said the conductor, “I think not any near enough to be reached in this storm; but I have an idea that there’s a case of condensed milk in the baggage-car; I’ll see,” and he hurried out.
“That’s a providential baggage-car,” said Mrs. Jervis. “How much we might have suffered but for its fortunate stores!”
“Yes,” replied her neighbor gravely; “a fast of a week wouldn’t be very comfortable.”
“And jack rabbits are tiptop!” burst in Harry Jervis. His mother smiled.
“I’m glad you like them, Harry; I should like them better bounding away over the prairies on their own long legs than served up half cooked, on a newspaper for plates,—to be eaten with fingers, too,” she added.
“Fingers were made before forks!” said Harry triumphantly, repeating an old saying which had been quoted quite often in that car of late.
“Your fingers were not, Harry!” said Mrs. Jervis, laughing. “However, we have cause to be thankful, even for jack rabbits eaten with our fingers.”
At this moment entered a brakeman with a can of condensed milk. “The conductor sent this to you, ma’am,” he said.