COULD NOT BE HER FATHER,
for he was rough and powerful, while she was a dainty little thing whose appearance spoke of different surroundings from that of the man. He looked into the fair face with solicitude, and the unoccupied paw, heavy as it was, adjusted her cloak and fondled her as softly as a woman’s. Then she opened her eyes, and out of the folds of her red covering crept a delicate little hand, upon which glittered a diminutive gold ring. It stole up to his hairy face and patted him on the cheek. Then the great big beard and the ferocious-looking mustache swooped down upon her and there was the sound of a kiss, and a childish ripple of laughter. I got into conversation with the man, when he asked for information in regard to the movements of the trains. He was going to Michigan, he said. Had a mill there, and was a lumberman. I remarked that the beauty of his child spoke well for Michigan. Not his child, bless her, his sister’s child. Her father and her mother had died in a far eastern village in Canada, his native place, and he had come from his pineries to take charge of her. He was a bachelor, but, bless you, that would not prevent his taking care of his little charge. Oh, no, Dolly (so he called her) would never want for anything, and would be brought up a lady. I would have preferred that he had said he would make a woman of her instead of a lady, seeing that we have so many ladies and so few women, but I couldn’t venture that freedom with him. For, whenever I hear of a girl being brought up a lady I picture to myself
A DAMSEL WHO PLAYS ON THE PIANO
a little, can dance a little, speaks French a little and English indifferently, and to whom the rest of the family and outsiders generally are expected to look up. As we were talking, a woman of the street came in and crouched on the seat near the steam-heater, for it was cold outside and frost had followed the sunshine. Little Red Ridinghood noticed her poor bedraggled look, and sidled up close to her.
“Are you a poor woman?” she asked in a feeling way.
“Yes, a very poor woman, God help me,” I heard the forlorn creature reply.
“Would you take some money from me?” and Red Ridinghood fumbled for her little pocket, and having found it dropped a piece of money in the woman’s hand.
“Won’t you shake hands with me?” she asked as the little one was moving away.
“Oh, yes, if you are a good woman,” said Red Ridinghood, loud enough for all to hear.
The hand-shaking did not take place, for just then a train rushed into the station, and Dolly’s uncle, learning that it was the train he awaited, called her, and lifting her in his arms, he nodded to me and hastened towards the platform. Just before he went out the little red hood popped over his shoulder, and a childish voice cried out: