"Were your parents on the cars? Do you know whether they are hurt?" "They both died when I was a baby." "Who was with you?" "Nobody but Grip--my dog." "Had you no relatives or friends on the train?" "I have none. I am all alone in the world." "Where did you come from?" "Chattanooga." "Where were you going?" "My grandpa died, and as I had nobody to take care of me, I was going to Columbus to work in the cotton factory." "Humph! Much work you will do for many a long day." He stroked his grayish beard, and mused a moment, and Edna said timidly: "If you please, sir, I would like to know if my dog is hurt?" The physician smiled, and looked round inquiringly. "Has any one seen a dog that was on the train?" One of the brakemen, a stout Irishman, took his pipe from his mouth, and answered: "Aye, aye, sir! and as vicious a brute as ever I set eyes on. Both his hind legs were smashed--dragged so--and I tapped him on the head with an axe to put him out of his misery. Yonder he now lies on the track." Edna put her hand over her eyes, and turned her face down on the grass to hide tears that would not be driven back. Here the surgeon was called away, and for a half hour the child lay there, wondering what would become of her, in her present crippled and helpless condition, and questioning in her heart why God did not take her instead of that dimpled darling, whose parents were now weeping so bitterly for the untimely death that mowed their blossom ere its petals were expanded. The chilling belief was fast gaining ground that God had cursed and forsaken her; that misfortune and bereavement would dog her steps through life; and a hard, bitter expression settled about her mouth, and looked out gloomily from the sad eyes. Her painful reverie was interrupted by the cheery voice of Dr. Rodney, who came back, accompanied by an elegantly-dressed middle-aged lady. "Ah, my brave little soldier! Tell us your name." "Edna Earl." "Have you no relatives?" asked the lady, stooping to scrutinize her face. "No, ma'am." "She is a very pretty child, Mrs. Murray, and if you can take care of her, even for a few weeks, until she is able to walk about, it will be a real charity. I never saw so much fortitude displayed by one so young; but her fever is increasing, and she needs immediate attention. Will it be convenient for you to carry her to your house at once?" "Certainly, doctor; order the carriage driven up as close as possible. I brought a small mattress, and think the ride will not be very painful. What splendid eyes she has! Poor little thing! Of course you will come and prescribe for her, and I will see that she is carefully nursed until she is quite well again. Here, Henry, you and Richard must lift this child, and put her on the mattress in the carriage. Mind you do not stumble and hurt her."