The doctor persisted in calling her Matilda, and as she resolutely persisted in refusing to answer
to that name, it seemed quite improbable that they would ever talk
much together. Occasionally, it is true, he made her some advances,
by playfully offering her his hand, but she would not touch it, and
after a time, standing upon the seat and turning round, she found
more agreeable society in the company of two boys who sat directly
behind her.
They were evidently twelve or thirteen years of age, and in personal
appearance somewhat alike, save that the face of the brown-haired
boy was more open, ingenuous, and pleasing than that of his
companion, whose hair and eyes were black as night. A jolt of the
cars caused Maude to lay her chubby hand upon the shoulder of the
elder boy, who, being very fond of children, caught it within his
own, and in this way made her acquaintance.
To him she was very communicative, and in a short time he learned that "her name was
Maude Remington, that the pretty lady in brown was her mother, and
that the naughty man was not her father, and never would be, for
Janet said so."
This at once awakened an interest in the boys, and for more than an
hour they petted and played with the little girl, who, though very
gracious to both, still manifested so much preference for the brown-
haired, that the other laughingly asked her which she liked the
best.
"I like you and you," was Maude's childlike answer, as she pointed a
finger at each.
"But," persisted her questioner, "you like my cousin the best. Will
you tell me why?"
Maude hesitated a moment, then laying a hand on either side of the
speaker's face, and looking intently into his eyes, she answered,
"You don't look as if you meant for certain, and he does!"
Had Maude Remington been twenty instead of five, she could not
better have defined the difference between those two young lads, and
in after years she had sad cause for remembering words which seemed
almost prophetic. At Albany they, parted company, for though the
boys lived in Rochester they were to remain in the city through the
night, and Dr. Kennedy had decided to go on. By doing so he would
reach home near the close of the next day, beside saving a large
hotel bill, and this last was with him a very weighty reason.
But he did not say so to his wife; neither did he tell her that he had left
orders for his carriage to be in Canadaigua on the arrival of the
noon train, but he said "he was in haste to show her to his
daughter--that 'twas a maxim of his to save as much time as
possible, and that unless she were very anxious to sleep, he would
rather travel all night." So the poor, weary woman, whose head was
aching terribly, smiled faintly upon him as she said, "Go on, of
course," and nibbled at the hard seedcakes and harder crackers which
he brought her, there not being time for supper in Albany.