50 THE SILVER LAKE STORIES.

into his seat, cracked his whip and we
were fairly on our way.

The old lady in the corner goon
dropped asleep, the young rosy-cheeked
woman entertained her baby, and the
men talked together ; so that the little
orphan asylum girl and myself were left
unnoticed by the rest of the passengers.

For a time, I said nothing to her,
but every time I turned that way, I
found her full bright blue eyes raised
to my face, with a look of gratitude
and interest, as if she wished to enter
into conversation.

At length, I said to her, “What is
your name, my dear ?”