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“Now, dear! I’m really afraid the poor old soul will hurt herself and she’s rung for the porter times without end, yet he doesn’t come. Will you, or shall I?”

Indeed, Mr. Hale had already half-risen and only delayed to offer his services because he knew it better for Jessica to be roused from her brooding. Fortunately, her good breeding conquered her reluctance and, a moment later, guiding herself along the aisle of the swaying car, she reached the old lady’s side and asked:

“Beg pardon, madam, but have you lost something? Can I help you look for it?”

The traveler rose so suddenly from her stooping posture that her stiff, old-fashioned bonnet slipped to the back of her neck and imparted a wild, rakish effect to her peculiar attire. The bonnet was so big and deep, of that shape known as “poke,” and the face it framed was so wizened and small that Jessica could think of nothing but some fairy-tale witch.

“Oh! but Sissy, me dear! Sure ’tis the kind child you are! Arrah musha! But I’ve lost me fine new gum shoes, what Barney, me son, gave me this very day whatever. ‘With your rubbers and umberell, mother,’ says he, ‘sure you’ll be makin’ the trip in fine style, and be all forehanded again’ the bad sort of weather you’ll be meetin’ th’ other side this big counthry,’ says he. And now I’ve lost them entire, and the umberell—Here ’tis. Now ain’t that a fine one, Sissy dear?”