Six Years Later

The New York and Springfield train eastward bound stood waiting in
the depot at New Haven. There had been a slight accident which
occasioned a detention of several minutes, and taking advantage of
this delay many of the passengers alighted to stretch their weary
limbs or inhale a breath of purer air than could be obtained
within the crowded car. Several seats were thus left unoccupied,
one of which a tall, dark, foreign-looking man, with eyes
concealed by a green shade, was about appropriating to himself,
when a wee little hand was laid on his and a sweet baby voice
called out, "That's my mamma's chair, big man, mamma gone after cake for
Nina!"

The stranger started, and his face flushed with some strong
emotion, while his hand rested caressingly upon the flowing curls
of the beautiful three-years-old girl, as he asked, "Who Is mamma, darling? What is her name, I mean?"

"I can tell that a heap better'n Kina," chimed in a boy of five,
who was sitting just across the aisle, and joining the little
girl, he continued, 'My mother is Edith, so Aunt Grace calls her,
but father says Miggie most all the time.

The stranger sank into the seat, dizzy and faint with the mighty
shock, for he knew now that Edith's children were standing them
before him--that frank, fearless boy, and that sweet little girl,
who, not caring to be outdone by her brother, said, in a half
exultant way, as if it were something of which she were very
proud, "I've got an Uncle 'Ichard, I have, and he's tomin' home bime by."