THE JOURNEY'S END.
"Yes, he's a minister," Ester repeated, even more decidedly, as, being
seated in the swift-moving train, directly behind the old lady and the
young gentleman who had become the subject of her thoughts, she found
leisure to observe him more closely. Mr. Newton was absorbed in the
_Tribune_; so she gave her undivided attention to the two, and could
hear snatches of the conversation which passed between them, as well
as note the courteous care with which he brought her a cup of water
and attended to all her simple wants. During the stopping of the train
at a station, their talk became distinct.
"And I haven't seen my boy, don't you think, in ten years," the old
lady was saying. "Won't he be glad though, to see his mother once
more? And he's got children--two of them; one is named after me,
Sabrina. It's an awful homely name, I think, don't you? But then, you
see, it was grandma's."
"And that makes all the difference in the world," her companion
answered. "So the old home is broken up, and you are going to make a
new one."
"Yes; and I'll show you every _thing_ I've got to remember my old
garden by."
With eager, trembling fingers, she untied the string which held down
the cover of her basket, and, rummaging within, brought to light
a withered bouquet of the very commonest and, perhaps, the very
homeliest flowers that grew, if there _are_ any homely flowers.
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