The old lady was to meet them in Chicago.

The children spoke not a word of English, but there is a universal
language of the heart that speaks and is understood. So the trainmen
and the children were on very chummy terms.

Now, at London, Ontario, our train waited an hour for the Toronto and
Montreal connections.

Just before we reached London, I saw the Conductor take the three
smallest little passengers to the washroom at the end of the car, roll
up their sleeves, turn their collars in, and duly wash their hands and
faces. Then he combed their hair. They accepted the situation as if
they belonged to the Conductor’s family, as of course they did for the
time being. It was a domestic scene that caused the whole car to
smile, and made everybody know everybody else. A touch of nature makes
a whole coach kin.

The children had a bushel-basket full of eatables, but at London that
Conductor took the whole brood over to the dining-hall for supper, and
I saw two fat men scrap as to who should have the privilege of paying
for the kiddies’ suppers. The children munched and smiled and said
little things to each other in Teutonic whispers.

After our train left London and the Conductor had taken up his
tickets, he came back, turned over two seats and placed the cushions
lengthwise. One of the trainmen borrowed a couple of blankets from the
sleeping-cars, and with the help of three volunteered overcoats, the
babies were all put to bed, and duly tucked in.