Chapter VIII: A Collation Served

SURE enough! There she came, plodding through the mud which had grown much deeper since morning.

The large basket that she carried seemed to weigh her down, and she made slow progress.

"Dear, dear!" said Christie. "One of them ought to have had Josiah's boots. I don't know how they will ever manage to get through the puddles. Look, baby! If you were a man, you would go right out and try to help them, wouldn't you?"

Nobody took this hint, and the two floundered along, and climbed the high step of the car platform. Then Sarah Ann set down her basket, and looked curiously in at the door.

"What do you want?" asked a brakeman who appeared just then, sticking his head out of the door.

Sarah Ann spoke up boldly:

"We want the girl with the baby, who saved Jimmy from getting burned to death; mother sent her her dinner, and some things for the rest, if she's a mind to give 'em to 'em."

This was bewildering news to the brakeman. He looked from the girl to the woman, with a puzzled face. He understood the word "dinner," and there was certainly a baby in the train; but who was Jimmy, and when was he saved from burning to death?

However, Wells Burton understood, and came to the rescue:

"It is all right, brakeman, several things have happened since you went for a walk. The party to whom that dinner belongs is here, and I'm inclined to think that a good many people who feel the pangs of hunger, wish they were friends of hers."

Such fun as it was to unpack that basket!

Christie did not know before that so many things could be crowded into a basket. Bread and butter, piles of it, a soup-plate piled high with slices of ham, thin, and done to a crisp, and smelling, oh, so appetizing! Sheets of gingerbread, great squares of cheese, a bowl of doughnuts, another bowl of quince sauce, and a pail full of milk.

"Mother said you could give some to anybody you pleased," explained Sarah Ann, who seemed to have recovered her spirits. "She said father wouldn't grudge anything to the girl who saved Jimmy from getting hurt. My! But I was scared!" she added, confidentially. "Whose baby is that? Isn't he your little brother? What makes him so good with you if he don't belong? Jimmy would yell awful if a strange girl took him. My sakes! I hope his mother will find him. Do you mean to keep him always if she doesn't, and bring him up for yours? Wouldn't that be funny, for a little girl like you to adopt a baby! Oh, wouldn't it?"

What a tongue Sarah Ann had!

Wells was laughing immoderately, and pretending that it was a violent cough, to save Sarah Ann's feelings, and no peony was ever so brilliant as Christie's cheeks.

She tried to thank the girl for her kindness, but no words seemed to come at her call. However, Sarah Ann was too much interested in all that she saw around her, to mind whether she was thanked or not. She next gave attention to Wells.

"Is that your brother?" And then without waiting for an answer. "Why didn't he come after the milk? Oh, my! A sprain is a real mean thing, sometimes. Jed Barker sprained his foot last summer, and he had to have it cut off."

After this cheering bit of news, the girl who had had her head in the oven when Christie was there, and who had been standing at one side of the door, peeping in an abashed way, now found voice:

"Sarah Ann, you'd ought to be ashamed! Your ma told you not to let your tongue get to running. Come out here, and let her eat her dinner, and then you can get the dishes."

"I ain't said nothing," declared Sarah Ann, looking aggrieved.

However, she turned quickly and went out to the platform.

"There's a rare specimen of a girl for you!" said Wells. "She's a genius, I should say. Does Jimmy look like her? If he does, I don't wonder that you saved his life."

"I don't think she means to do anything wrong," said Christie, hesitatingly. "It is just because she doesn't know any better. It must have been very hard work to carry this basket through the mud."

"Wrong!" exclaimed Wells. "I should say not! On the contrary, she is the only one of this crowd, yourself excepted, who has done anything right since we started. Does your mother enjoy having you say, 'this crowd,' when you mean half a dozen people? Mine considers it slang, and I never say it any more, except on special occasions."

"I never say it at all," answered Christie, laughing.

During this time she had been engaged in unpacking the basket, and now had the contents arranged neatly on a large clean towel which she brought out of the flowered carpet sack. How nice it was that mother had wrapped the cookies first in a towel! What would she think if she knew it was doing duty as a tablecloth, and that her Christie was serving dinner for half a dozen hungry strangers!

I don't suppose that bread and butter and ham ever tasted better. The old gentleman declared that he was sure there never was any so good before, and the pale young man ate quite a large piece of bread, and smiled in gratitude. And several men, who with gloomy faces, and hands in their pockets, strayed in from the different cars, accepted Christie's offer of a ham sandwich with surprise and thanks.

"Would you offer some to the lady?" Christie asked in a whisper of Wells, glancing doubtfully in her direction.

"What, the 'Seaside Library' creature? I beg that you will not misuse language so badly as to call her a lady. I should say that I wouldn't do any such thing. You would probably get refused for your pains. Such a delicate person as she never eats anything more solid that a bit of ice-cream, and a little pound cake, you may be sure."

But Christie did not laugh. Instead, she looked troubled, and after a while, thoughtfully laid aside a delicate bit of ham, and a thin slice of bread and butter. Diving down into her satchel again, she brought out a piece of an old tablecloth, beautifully clean and white; the seed cakes for Uncle Daniel's baby had been wrapped in it. On this white cloth she laid the bread and butter, two of the seed cakes, a delicate piece of gingerbread, and a fragment of cheese.

"I'm going to carry these to her," she said to Wells, inclining her head as she spoke in the direction of "the lady."

"She won't take them."

"I can't help it. I shall feel ashamed of myself if I don't offer them, and I don't like to feel ashamed of myself."

"There is something in that," Wells said, laughing yet with a look in his eyes that said he was proud of Christie. "Go ahead; I'll keep watch and be ready to defend you, if she is inclined to bite."

And Christie went. She had done her best, and the food certainly did not look uninviting, but the lady had worked herself by this time into such a state of disgust, that I think it would have been very hard for her to be good.

She gave one disdainful glance at the ragged edges of the piece of tablecloth, then shook her head: "No, thank you. I am not reduced to that state yet."

Then, seeing the flaming colour in Christie's cheeks, she seemed to struggle to make herself behave better.

"I'm not afraid of you, child," she said, "You look neat, I am sure. But after seeing the hands and hair of the girl who brought the basket, I could not eat a mouthful."

Not a word said Christie. She carried her bit of tablecloth back, and laid it on the seat, covering the food from the dust; her eyes, meantime, swimming with tears.

"How long does it take people to starve?" Wells asked fiercely of the old gentleman who was in the act of biting a huge piece of ham.

Evidently he understood Wells' meaning, and smiled. But Christie could not smile.

Baby, meantime, was in rollicking humour. Apparently he had resolved that his mother was not worthy of any more tears, or frettings, and he kept one pretty arm around Christie's neck, and ate seed cakes, and drank milk, with delight.

On the whole, it was a very nice dinner, and the different people who came from the other car and shared it, all agreed that "Sarah Ann" ought to have a vote of thanks.

"I'll tell you what will be better than that," said the old gentleman, putting his hand in his pocket; "at least we can add it to the thanks, and make her happy. Let us take up a nice little collection for her to get herself a pair of rubber boots to climb through the mud in," and he dropped a shining gold bit into Christie's hand.

"And a comb to comb her hair with," added Wells as he laid a silver dollar beside the gold piece; "you advise her to buy one, Christie, that's a good girl."

The rough-looking men seemed equally pleased with the idea, and dropped their fifty-cent pieces into the eager little hand, and the pale young man actually added another gold piece.

I wish you could have seen Christie's eyes, as her hand began to grow full! It seemed to her that she was never so happy in her life. It was "so" splendid to give people things; she had never had that pleasure before.

"I haven't any money," she said softly to Wells, "but I am so glad that the rest of you have; and it is so nice in you to let me give it to her. Just think what a lot of nice things it will buy her! I know they are poor by the looks of the kitchen. I think it was real good in them to send us dinner."

"So it was; and it was real good of the woman to be such an excellent cook. I haven't had a better dinner in a long time. But I say, Christie, what are you saving that choice bit in the cloth for? You don't mean to relent and let the baby have it after all!"

"No," said Christie laughing, "baby must be content with seed cakes, and milk; I know his mamma does not let him eat ham, and I am not going to run the risk. But I thought I would keep that for a little while."

The remainder of the milk had been carefully poured into what Wells called "the company pitcher," to be kept for baby. And Christie went with basket and money out to Sarah Ann on the platform.

Just as she came back with her eyes full of the story of the girl's dumb surprise, a lady was opening the opposite door and coming down the aisle. A middle-aged lady elegantly dressed, and with a placid smile on her face.

"I thought I must come and look after the little fairy who so kindly furnished us with a dinner," she said brightly. "Is this the one? My child, you did not know I had some of your dinner, did you? But that patient brakeman out there shared his slice of bread and ham with me, and told me the whole story. I want to see the baby. If I had heard of him before, I should have come and tried to help. Yes, I have been sitting in that next car all the time. But I was so stupid as to go to sleep and lose most of the excitements. Why, Wells Burton! I wonder if you are here?"

"Yes'm," said Wells briskly, "I'm here, Mrs. Haviland; but I did not know that you were. Did you go to sleep before the accident and the stopping of the train?"

"No, indeed! I stayed awake for that excitement, and heard all about it, and the forethought of this little woman, but you see I did not know it was you. And there seemed to be so many crowding in, and nothing to do but stare, that I thought I wouldn't join them. And so it was you who were hurt? My dear boy, how distressed your mother must be!" exclaimed Mrs. Haviland, bending over him pityingly. "Where is she, and all the rest of them, and how is it that you are spending Christmas Day in the cars?"

There seemed no end to the questions that the handsome lady had to ask.

Christie, meantime, was engaged in watching the "Seaside Library" woman, as I am afraid that lady will have to be called for the rest of the story. The moment that the stranger had exclaimed:

"Why, Wells Burton!"

The lady had given a sudden surprised start, and her face had flushed deeply. At least she knew the "name," if she did not the boy, and for some reason, the knowledge seemed to disturb her.

Just then the stranger turned in her direction, and bowed slightly as some people do when they know persons a little bit, and do not care to know them any better.

Wells noticed the bow, and was ready with questions.

"Mrs. Haviland, I wonder if you are acquainted with that creature. Who is she?"

"My dear boy, have you been travelling with her all day, without knowing who she is? Did you ever hear of a person by the name of Henrietta Westville?"

"I should think I had! You don't say that she is the one!"

"That is her name, my boy."

"Well! I wonder that I had not thought of it for myself. The name fits her character precisely. Of all the cantankerous, disgusting creatures that I ever saw, she—"

"Softly, softly, my dear Wells, what would 'mother' say to such language as that?"

"I don't care," declared Wells, "the language doesn't begin with the subject. Mamma is reasonable. She knows that a fellow has to boil over once in a while. Why, Mrs. Haviland, you never heard the like of the way in which she has conducted herself to-day."

And then Wells launched out in a description of the conduct of the "Seaside Library" creature.

And Christie took the sleepy baby to a seat on the other side of the car to coo him to sleep, and to wonder who this lady was, and why Wells cared because the young woman was named Henrietta Westville, and what he was telling the stranger about herself, for at this moment she overheard her own name.