"Go to your mother, child. I don't wish to be annoyed."
"I can't, 'cause she's over seas, big Bridget says, to that red-pickle country. I s'pose I'll have to, then. Good night. I hope you'll rest well."
The lady in the red kimono did not feel as if she would. She was always nervous in a sleeping car, anyway; and what did the child mean by "over seas in the red-pickle country"? Was it possible she was travelling alone? Were there people in the world so foolish as to allow such a thing?
After a few moments of much thinking, the lady rose, carefully adjusted her kimono, and stepped to Josephine's berth. The child lay holding the curtains apart, much to the disgust of the person overhead, and gazing at the lamp above. Her cheeks were wet, her free hand clutched Rudanthy, and the expression of her face was one that no woman could see and not pity.
"My dear little girl, don't cry. I've come to take off your cloak. Please sit up a minute."
