Do
you not remember better than anything else, standing at your mother's
knee--the pressure of her hand, her kiss on your forehead?"
By this time our engine had arrived. A whistle was blowing, and nearly
every one was rushing from the room, the impatient old gentleman among
the first. Miss Laura was hurriedly trying to do up her shawl strap, and
I was standing by, wishing that I could help her. The old lady and the
young man were the only other people in the room, and we could not help
hearing what they said.
"Yes, I do," he said in a thick voice, and his face got very red. "She
is dead now--I have no mother."
"Poor boy!" and the old lady laid her hand on his shoulder. They were
standing up, and she was taller than he was. "May God bless you. I know
you have a kind heart. I have four stalwart boys, and you remind me of
the youngest. If you are ever in Washington come to see me." She gave
him some name, and he lifted his hat and looked as if he was astonished
to find out who she was. Then he, too, went away, and she turned to Miss
Laura. "Shall I help you, my dear?"
"If you please," said my young mistress.
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