The Man On The Train
by
When the telegram came from William George, Grandma Sheldon was all alone with Cyrus and Louise. And Cyrus and Louise, aged respectively twelve and eleven, were not very much good, Grandma thought, when it came to advising what was to be done. Grandma was “all in a flutter, dear, oh dear,” as she said.
The telegram said that Delia, William George’s wife, was seriously ill down at Green Village, and William George wanted Samuel to bring Grandma down immediately. Delia had always thought there was nobody like Grandma when it came to nursing sick folks.
But Samuel and his wife were both away–had been away for two days and intended to be away for five more. They had driven to Sinclair, twenty miles away, to visit with Mrs. Samuel’s folks for a week.
“Dear, oh dear, what shall I do?” said Grandma.
“Go right to Green Village on the evening train,” said Cyrus briskly.
“Dear, oh dear, and leave you two alone!” cried Grandma.
“Louise and I will do very well until tomorrow,” said Cyrus sturdily. “We will send word to Sinclair by today’s mail, and Father and Mother will be home by tomorrow night.”
“But I never was on the cars in my life,” protested Grandma nervously. “I’m–I’m so frightened to start alone. And you never know what kind of people you may meet on the train.”
“You’ll be all right, Grandma. I’ll drive you to the station, get you your ticket, and put you on the train. Then you’ll have nothing to do until the train gets to Green Village. I’ll send a telegram to Uncle William George to meet you.”
“I shall fall and break my neck getting off the train,” said Grandma pessimistically. But she was wondering at the same time whether she had better take the black valise or the yellow, and whether William George would be likely to have plenty of flaxseed in the house.
It was six miles to the station, and Cyrus drove Grandma over in time to catch a train that reached Green Village at nine o’clock.
“Dear, oh dear,” said Grandma, “what if William George’s folks ain’t there to meet me? It’s all very well, Cyrus, to say that they will be there, but you don’t know. And it’s all very well to say not to be nervous because everything will be all right. If you were seventy-five years old and had never set foot on the cars in your life you’d be nervous too, and you can’t be sure that everything will be all right. You never know what sort of people you’ll meet on the train. I may get on the wrong train or lose my ticket or get carried past Green Village or get my pocket picked. Well, no, I won’t do that, for not one cent will I carry with me. You shall take back home all the money you don’t need to get my ticket. Then I shall be easier in my mind. Dear, oh dear, if it wasn’t that Delia is so seriously ill I wouldn’t go one step.”
“Oh, you’ll be all right, Grandma,” assured Cyrus.
He got Grandma’s ticket for her and Grandma tied it up in the corner of her handkerchief. Then the train came in and Grandma, clinging closely to Cyrus, was put on it. Cyrus found a comfortable seat for her and shook hands cheerily.
“Good-bye, Grandma. Don’t be frightened. Here’s the Weekly Argus. I got it at the store. You may like to look over it.”
Then Cyrus was gone, and in a minute the station house and platform began to glide away.
Dear, oh dear, what has happened to it? thought Grandma in dismay. The next moment she exclaimed aloud, “Why, it’s us that’s moving, not it!”
Some of the passengers smiled pleasantly at Grandma. She was the variety of old lady at which people do smile pleasantly; a grandma with round, pink cheeks, soft, brown eyes, and lovely snow-white curls is a nice person to look at wherever she is found.