“He said it might want him to take the train; do you know if it did?”
“Yes’m, it did.”
“And he missed it?”
“Why, of course, mother dear; the train goes at eleven, you know. I’m awfully sorry. It is perfectly unaccountable what has become of this forenoon!”
Mrs. Steadman made no comment; she did not want to trust herself to do so just then. She turned away with a sigh so deep that it would have cut Edward’s heart, had he heard it.
And Jane nodded her gray head and muttered, “I told you so!”
Myra Spafford.
A TEN-DOLLAR CHRISTMAS.
