THE LAWTON GIRL
By Harold Frederic
New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons
1890
THE LAWTON GIRL
CHAPTER I.--“AND YET YOU KNEW!”
“Thessaly! Ten minutes for refreshments!” called out the brisk
young colored porter, advancing up the aisle of the drawing-room
car, whisk-broom in hand. “Change cahs foh Thanksgiving turkey _and_
cranberry sauce,” he added, upon humorous after-thought, smiling broadly
as he spoke, and chuckling to himself.
This friendly remark was addressed in confidence to a group of three
persons at the forward end of the car, who began preparations for the
halt as the clanking of the wheels beneath them grew more measured, and
the carriage trembled and lurched under the pressure of the brakes. But
the cheery grin which went with it was exclusively directed to the two
ladies who rose now from their arm-chairs, and who gently relaxed their
features in amused response.
Whether the porter was moved only by the comeliness of these faces
and their gracious softening, or whether he was aware that they were
patrician countenances, so to speak, and belonged to Mrs. and Miss
Minster, persons of vast wealth and importance and considerable
stockholders in this very railroad, is not clear. But he made a great
bustle over getting their parcels down from the racks overhead, and
helping them to don their outer garments. He smoothed the rich fur
of their sealskin cloaks with almost affectionate strokes of his
coffee-colored palms, and made a pile of their belongings on the next
seat with an exaggerated show of dexterity and zeal. This done, he
turned for a cursory moment to the young man who constituted the third
member of the group, peremptorily pulled up the collar of his overcoat
to the top of his ears, and was back again with his arms full of the
ladies’ bundles as the train came to a stop.
“This way, ladies,” he said, marching jauntily under his burden toward
the door.
“I will bid you good-day, Mr. Boyce,” said the elder of the women,
speaking with somewhat formal politeness, but offering her hand.
“Good-day, sir,” the younger said simply, with a little inclination of
the head, but with no “Mr. Boyce,” and no proffer of her gloved fingers.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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