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Page 26
"He has gone to get your checks," said Clover, divided between diversion
and dismay at this specimen of her future "matron." "We only stay here a
few minutes, I believe. Do you know exactly when the train starts, Mrs.
Watson?"
"No, dear, I don't. I never know anything about trains and things like
that. Somebody always has to tell me, and put me on the cars. I shall
trust to you and your brother to do that now. It's a great comfort to have
a gentleman to see to things for you."
A gentleman! Poor Philly!
Mr. Dayton now came back to them. It was lucky that he knew the station
and was used to the ways of railroads, for it appeared that Mrs. Watson
had made no arrangements whatever for her journey, but had blindly
devolved the care of herself and her belongings on her "young friends," as
she called Clover and Phil. She had no sleeping section secured and no
tickets, and they had to be procured at the last moment and in such a
scramble that the last of her parcels was handed on to the platform by a
porter, at full run, after the train was in motion. She was not at all
flurried by the commotion, though others were, and blandly repeated that
she knew from the beginning that all would be right as soon as Miss Carr
and her brother arrived.
Mrs. Dayton had sent a courteous invitation to the old lady to come to Car
Forty-seven for tea, but Mrs. Watson did not at all like being left alone
meantime, and held fast to Clover when the others moved to go.
"I'm used to being a good deal looked after," she explained. "All the
family know my ways, and they never do let me be alone much. I'm taken
faint sometimes; and the doctor says it's my heart or something that's
the cause of it, so my daughter she--You ain't going, my dear, are you?"
"I must look after my brother," said poor Clover; "he's been ill, you
know, and this is the time for his medicine."
"Dear me! is he ill?" said Mrs. Watson, in an aggrieved tone. "I wasn't
prepared for that. You'll have your hands pretty full with him and me
both, won't you?--for though I'm well enough just now, there's no knowing
what a day may bring forth, and you're all I have to depend upon. You're
sure you must go? It seems as if your sister--Mrs. Worthing, is that the
name?--might see to the medicine, and give you a little freedom. Don't let
your brother be too exacting, dear. It is the worst thing for a young man.
I'll sit here a little while, and then I'll--The conductor will help me, I
suppose, or perhaps that gentleman might--I hate to be left by myself."
These were the last words which Clover heard as she escaped. She entered
Car Forty-seven with such a rueful and disgusted countenance that
everybody burst out laughing.
"What is the matter, Miss Clover?" asked Mr. Dayton. "Has your old lady
left something after all?"
"Don't call her _my_ old lady! I'm supposed to be her young lady, under
her charge," said Clover, trying to smile. But the moment she got Katy to
herself, she burst out with,--
"My dear, what _am_ I going to do? It's really too dreadful. Instead of
some one to help me, which is what papa meant, Mrs. Watson seems to depend
on me to take all the care of her; and she says she has fainting fits and
disease of the heart! How can I take care of her? Phil needs me all the
time, and a great deal more than she does; I don't see how I can."
"You can't, of course. You are here to take care of Phil; and it is out of
the question that you should have another person to look after. But I
think you must mistake Mrs. Watson, Clovy. I know that Mrs. Hall wrote
plainly about Phil's illness, for she showed me the letter."
"Just wait till you hear her talk," cried the exasperated Clover. "You
will find that I didn't mistake her at all. Oh, why did Mrs. Hall
interfere? It would all seem so easy in comparison--so perfectly easy--if
only Philly and I were alone together."
Katy thought that Clover was fretted and disposed to exaggerate; but after
Mrs. Watson joined them a little later, she changed her opinion. The old
lady was an inveterate talker, and her habit of only half finishing her
sentences made it difficult to follow the meanderings of her rambling
discourse. It turned largely on her daughter, Mrs. Phillips, her husband,
children, house, furniture, habits, tastes, and the Phillips connection
generally.
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