She did go. Harry Lossing made all the arrangements.
Tilly was satisfied. But, then, Tilly had not heard
Harry's remark to his mother: "Alma says Miss Louder
is trying to make the old lady move against her will.
I dare say it would be better to give the young woman a chance
to miss her mother and take a little quiet think."

Tilly saw her mother off on the train to Baxter, the Fergusons' station.
Being a provident, far-sighted, and also inexperienced traveller,
she had allowed a full half-hour for preliminary passages at arms with
the railway officials; and, as the train happened to be an hour late,
she found herself with time to spare, even after she had exhausted
the catalogue of possible deceptions and catastrophes by rail.
During the silence that followed her last warning, she sat
mentally keeping tally on her fingers. "Confidence men"--
Tilly began with the thumb--"Never give anybody her check.
Never lend anybody money. Never write her name to anything.
Don't get out till conductor tells her. In case of accident,
telegraph me, and keep in the middle of the car, off the trucks.
Not take care of anybody's baby while she goes off for a minute.
Not take care of babies at all. Or children. Not talk
to strangers--good gracious!"

Tilly felt a movement of impatience; there, after all her cautions,
there was her mother helping an old woman, an utterly strange
old woman, to pile a bird-cage on a bandbox surmounting a bag.
The old woman was clad in a black alpaca frock,
made with the voluminous draperies of years ago, but with
the uncreased folds and the brilliant gloss of a new gown.
She wore a bonnet of a singular shape, unknown to fashion,