CHAPTER IX AT GOBLIN HALL Little Owlet, though a young child, was an old traveler. Before she met her benefactress the days of her life that had not been spent in hotels and theaters had been passed in steamboats and railway trains. So to her there was none of the novelty that so much delights children. Yet she could not but enjoy the rapid motion through a beautiful country just bursting into leaf and blossom all over the land. Mr. Merritt’s friendly care had supplied Roma with all the new magazines, and for Owlet a basket of fruit and confectionery. But Roma refrained from cutting the attractive pages, and gave herself up to the entertainment of her little traveling companion, and she was, in her turn, amused with the quaint remarks of the little owl. The day passed without incidents other than the usual events of railway travel. This was an express train, and stopped only at the most important stations. At two o’clock in the afternoon they had luncheon brought in from the restaurant car, and served on a little side table laid between Roma and Owlet’s seat. Even this manner of meal, so new and delightful to most children, had no charm of novelty for this little theatrical waif. She ate and drank with the solemnity of “an old stager,” and afterward took George Thomas from his basket and fed him. Then she settled herself back in her big chair to take an after-dinner nap, like the proverbial and plethoric alderman. Roma cut the pages of a magazine, and read. The child slept on, lulled by the motion of the cars, until the sun set, when she opened her eyes to find her benefactress absorbed in the pages of her magazine. “Don’t you know you ought not to read when the train is in motion?” she gravely demanded. “Why not, ma’am?” inquired Roma. “If anybody but you had asked such a question I should think they were not possessed of common sense.” “But you have not answered my question, and really I would like to be informed why I ought not to read when the cars are in motion.” “Why, because it will ruin your eyes.” “Oh, but how do you know that, ma’am?” “Because mamma always said so, and eyes were business with her. She had to take care of her eyes and keep them beautiful, to please people who came to see her dance in pantomime.” “I understand, and am convinced.” “Why, mamma would never read in the cars, or by gaslight, or even when she was lying down; she was so careful of her eyes. She used to——” Here the child’s voice, that had been quivering, suddenly broke down, and she sank on the floor, hid her face in the cushions of the chair, and broke into sobs and tears. Roma gently lifted and gathered little Owlet to her bosom, bent tenderly over her, but spoke no word, for she felt it was best not to do so. Presently Owlet’s paroxysm of emotion exhausted itself, and she got off Roma’s lap, went back to her chair, wiped her eyes, and said, penitently: