"'Tain't no use to make a rumpus. The cars won't take back tracks for nobody."
I thought he didn't understand.
"Why, my cousin Lydia bought me a ticket, sir, right out of that hole. Don't you know she did? And that railroad went off and left me. I was getting in in a minute, as soon as I found my kitty!"
"O, that's it, hey? Well, you see this ere's only a flag-station, and they don't stop for cats."
I began to cry. The man patted me on the back, just as if I had a fish-bone in my throat, and called me "Poor sissy." It made me very angry—seven whole years old—to be called sissy! I wiped my eyes at once, and told him decidedly that I thought my cousin would make the "driver" come back for me.
The man whistled harder. This caused me to feel a little like a dog that has lost his master; and I felt so all the more when the man pointed his finger at me and told me to follow him, and he would try to get me "put up" for the night. But not knowing anything better to do, I trudged after him with my empty basket, forgetting all about the kitten.
We crossed the road, and went through a long yard where clothes were drying, till we came to a little brown house. Near the open door of the porch sat a woman beating eggs in a yellow pudding-dish. She had a skin somewhat the color of leather, and wore a leather-colored dress, gold beads, a brass-topped comb, and gold ear-drops, like upside down exclamation points. I thought she looked a little like a sheepskin book father had in a gilt binding.
"This little creeter got left by the train, Harr'et; I don't see but we shall have to eat and sleep her. What say?"
"Eat and sleep me!" I took a step backward. Of course they did not mean what they said; but I thought joking on this occasion was in very poor taste.
"Got left over? Poor little dear!"