ain until it was allowed to have its own way, and send
the train along at the rate of forty miles an hour, can understand the
flustered, bewildered feelings of young Russell, as, with the child in
one hand, he perambulated the cars. "Is any gentleman here willing to
take charge of this little girl?" said he. "What's to be done with her
when we get to New York?" answered a man near him. "Her uncle, Mr. Alan
Roscoe, is staying at the Astor House; all you have to do is to take the
child and her baggage to him, and as he is a southern gentleman, and
very rich, he'll see that you are well paid for your trouble." "I'll
take charge of her; have you got her ticket?" "No; and I declare I have
no more than half a dollar with me--can you advance the money? you will
be paid tenfold when you get to New York." "I'll do it as a
speculation: here, my pretty young lady, sit in my seat while I see to
your baggage." "Just got it in the baggage-car in time,--good-by, sir!"
"Good-by--good-by, Miss Roscoe!" "Good-by, sir--I wish it were _you_
going on to New York!"

Little Maggie did not like her travelling companion at all. Children are
great physiognomists, and their simple instincts are frequently surer
guides than the experience and wisdom of older persons, in detecting
character. She could not bear to talk to him--his conversation,
garnished with low cant phrases, was so different from any thing to
which she had ever been accustomed. But when she looked up into his
face, the repugnance she had at first felt became changed into
aversion--the low, narrow forehead, the furtive, but insolent glance of
his eye, and the expression of vulgar cunning about the mouth, formed a
countenance which might well justify her in shrinking back into her
seat, as far from him as possible.

When they arrived in New York, Smith, for that was the man's name,
engaged a carriage, and drove with little Margaret to the Astor House;
but, in answer to his inquiries, he was told that no one of the name of
Roscoe was lodging, or had been boarding there for the past month. He
muttered a curse, and jumped again into the hack. "What do you make of
this? that uncle of yours is not there." "Oh dear, what _shall_ I do?
but, indeed, the gentleman said he saw him in the Astor House." "What is
the gentleman's name, can you tell me?" "I don't know his name." "Don't
know his name, don't you? I'm prettily bit! But perhaps he may be in
some other hotel, we'll go and see." They a