Evelyn had feared, for her father, the actual moment of leaving, and was much relieved when, with his now habitual tranquillity, he smilingly assisted both her and mammy into the sleeper. Instead of entering himself, however, he hesitated.
"Isn't your mother coming, daughter?" he asked, looking backward. "Or—oh, I forgot," he added, quickly. "She has gone on before, hasn't she?"
"Yes, dear, she has gone before," Evelyn answered, hardly knowing what she said, the chill of a new terror upon her.
What did this mean? Was it possible that she had read but half the truth? Was her father's mind not only enfeebled, but going?
Mammy had not heard the question, and so Evelyn bore her anxiety alone, and during the day her anxious eyes were often upon her father's face, but he only smiled and kept silent.
They had been travelling all day, when suddenly, above the rumbling of the train, a weak, bird-like chirp was heard, faint but distinct; and presently it came again, a prolonged "p-e-e-p!"
Heads went up, inquiring faces peered up and down the coach, and fell again to paper or book, when the cry came a third time, and again.
Mammy's face was a study. "'Sh—'sh—'sh! don' say nothin', baby," she whispered, in Evelyn's ear; "but dis heah chicken in my bosom is a-ticklin' me so I can't hardly set still."
Evelyn was absolutely speechless with surprise, as mammy continued by snatches her whispered explanation:
"Des 'fo' we lef' I went 'n' lif' up ole Muffly ter see how de eggs was comin' orn, an' dis heah egg was pipped out, an' de little risindenter look like he eyed me so berseechin' I des nachelly couldn't leave 'im. Look like he knowed he warn't righteously in de morgans, an' 'e crave ter clair out an' trabble. I did hope speech wouldn't come ter 'im tell we got off'n deze heah train kyars."