Some scores of disconsolate people dispersed in this direction and
that. Mrs. Lively and a few others sat down on the steps, determined
to wait for the reopening of the doors. After a weary waiting in the
noon sun, which was not, however, very oppressive, the doors were
again opened, and Mrs. Lively was admitted to the audience-room. At
the head of one of the long tables sat George M. Pullman, to whom Mrs.
Lively told her small story. Then she asked for passes to Nauvoo
for herself, husband and son. She was kindly but closely questioned.
Didn't she save some silver and jewelry? didn't her husband save his
watch? etc. etc.

Mrs. Lively acknowledged it. "But," she added, "we haven't a change of
clothes--we haven't money enough to keep us in drinking-water."

"Buy water!" said Mr. Pullman with a decided accent of impatience.
"Don't talk about buying water with that great lake over there. Wait
till Michigan goes dry. I've brought water with my own hands from Lake
Michigan. Money for water, indeed!"

"So has my husband brought water from the lake," replied the lady with
spirit: "he brought two pails yesterday morning, and it took him three
hours and a half to accomplish it. I presume your quarters are nearer
the lake than ours."

"Well, well, I can't give your husband a pass. He can raise money on
his watch, can get a half-fare ticket, or he can work his way out.
We don't like to see our men turning their backs on Chicago now: some
have to, I suppose. I ought hardly to give you a pass, but I'll give
you one, and your child;" and he gave the order to the clerk.