Ladybird by Grace Livingston Hill

Author:Grace Livingston Hill [Hill, Grace Livingston]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-62416-417-0
Publisher: Barbour Publishing, Inc.
Published: 2013-08-17T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 13

Fraley was very much intrigued with the diner. It seemed to her like a playhouse with all those little tables. With the pleasure of a child, she sat down in the chair opposite to the lady.

The menu interested her, too, and she studied it with fascination. But she knew very few of the names that were on its list.

“Would you like me to order?” the lady asked, watching her perplexity.

“Please,” said Fraley. “Get me something that doesn’t cost much. Just some bread and milk perhaps, if that is cheap, or don’t they have a cow on a train?”

The lady laughed. “No cow, but plenty of milk! Don’t you want tea or coffee?”

“No,” said the girl decidedly, “Mother thought it wasn’t good for me.”

When the order was brought the girl opened her eyes in astonishment.

“Won’t this cost a lot?” she asked with a troubled look.

“You’re not to bother about the cost,” smiled the lady. “You are my guest on this trip. You’ll have use enough for your money when you get to New York.”

“But that isn’t right!”

“Yes, it’s right if I want to. Now eat your soup.”

With a healthy young appetite she did as she was told and surprised her patroness with the easy way in which she handled her spoon and knife and fork and the beautiful way she ate. Where did she learn it all? There was a mystery about this.

Nothing that went on escaped the bright eyes. After the lady paid the bill she laid some money beside the plate.

“What is that for?” the girl asked.

“A tip for the waiter.”

“I thought so,” said Fraley with satisfaction. “A friend told me about that. I ought to tip the porter, too, he said.”

“You needn’t bother; I’ve done that. Who is this friend? Have you known him a long time?”

“His name is Seagrave. He is a good man. He had a service last night in a schoolhouse. I was there. I’ve only known him yesterday and today, but he was very kind. He brought me to the station and told me some of the things I would need to know.”

“Is he young or old?”

“Why he’s young with nice eyes and a nice smile.”

“H’m!” said the lady. “Some theological student out earning his next winter’s tuition, I suppose. What did he tell you?”

“Oh, how to get off the train and up into the Pennsylvania Station,” recited the careful student. “He told me to go to the travelers’ aid to find out about taking a taxi, and where to look for my friends, and where to find a place to board in case they were not at home.”

“So you have friends?”

It almost sounded as if the lady were not glad.

“Yes. My mother’s brother lives in New York. And my father’s people live there, too.” She added the last as an afterthought.

“It’s time you told me your name. I am Mrs. Wentworth, but you may call me Violet if you like. A great many of my friends call me that.”

“Oh, what a lovely name.

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