Boston (Mass.) -- Fiction; Women philanthropists -- Fiction
“But you forget, Mildred,” I cried astonished, and sitting up quickly;
“these people are all going to switch off at the Junction and go
twenty-five miles on another road. The conductor told us so, you know,
and we can’t follow them, for it would make us a day late in reaching
Tacoma, and auntie really must have her ulcerated tooth attended to.”
She had in fact hardly held her head up that day and was suffering
terribly.
“Certainly,” said Mildred; “I have thought of all that, and it is all
arranged. Alice and Will are to go on with her in this car and take the
best of care of her, and if you will join Hélène [the maid] and me, we
will go with the immigrants and see little Frau Kopp well started in the
new home before we leave her. I consider it quite a fortunate
circumstance on the whole. I have wanted an excuse to mingle with the
people more and learn something further of frontier life than can be
seen from the windows of a parlor-car.”
Will remonstrated vigorously, however. “See here, Mildred,” he said
seriously, “it will never do in the world for you to start off this way
at night into an unknown region, and ride in these wretched cars. Very
likely you will have to sleep on a straw bed in some vile little tavern
no one knows where. You can give this woman some money, and”—
“I haven’t time to argue,” interposed Mildred, packing her bag. “I have
made up my mind to go. Don’t think me stubborn, but money can’t do for
that disconsolate, frightened little woman what I can do. She has not a
single friend; her baby is ill; some Yankee sharper would swindle her
out of her money; and, besides, I want to go. I want to know from
experience a little about the life of these people.”
“Then if I can’t dissuade you I must go with you. Mother can”—
“No, she can’t; and I can’t let you leave her, cousin Will,” replied
Mildred with quiet determination. “Nothing can possibly happen to us. We
are in a civilized land, and robbers are not wont to attack an immigrant
train. We shall not be hurt by ‘roughing it’ for twenty-four hours, and
if anything happens to delay us longer we will telegraph you.”
“Let me go _instead_ of you,” insisted Will, still frowning upon the
project; “there is no need of you three interrupting your journey when I
can manage the affair perfectly well.”
“But you don’t speak German and I do,” replied Mildred, decisively.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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