The Child on the Train
A conductor discovers a feverish little girl wandering a train alone with only her doll for comfort.
The story, cleaned up
A cleaned-up reading of the newspaper page: spelling and layout repaired, one story lifted off a crowded page. It follows the original closely but it is not a transcription. The original page is below; read it if a detail matters.
The south-bound train had left the depot, and Conductor Hughes was making his rounds. He stopped in front of a little girl who was crouched in a corner near the stove. Notwithstanding that a cold northeaster was blowing, she was thinly clad in a torn muslin dress, and her feet were destitute of shoes and hose. An air of terror appeared in her blue eyes as the conductor said, 'Have you got a ticket, little girl?' 'What is that?' she asked. 'Didn't whoever put you on the car give you a ticket?' 'Nobody put me on the car. We came all by ourselves; didn't we, Dolly?' she said, hugging a dilapidated old doll. 'Didn't your papa put you on the car?' 'No; we didn't tell papa anything, did we, Dolly?' The conductor took the little girl's hand in his. It was burning hot. Her thin features were flushed and her eyes were brilliant with fever. 'Poor child, are you cold? Don't you feel cold sometimes?' 'I am, we feel so cold, but we have our clothes, don't we, Dolly? When I find mamma she'll give me some new clothes, won't she?' 'Where is your mamma?' 'I don't know, but I'll find her. She told me to come to her. She came to my room last night and put her hands on me and kissed me just as she used to, but then she went to sleep in a long box and went off on the railroad.' The conductor was puzzled. Had the fever affected the child's head? 'I think you are lost, little girl. What is your name?' 'My name is Pansy, but mamma used to call me 'little pet.' I'll send you back to your papa. You have got a papa, haven't you, in Seattle?' A look of terror was frozen on the little pale features. Two thin arms were thrown around the conductor. 'Please don't send me back to papa,' she said. 'I'll be so good. I'll give you dolly. Mamma gave me dolly, but I'll let you play with her. Please let me stay with you till I find mamma.' The conductor, moved by compassion, took her to his own quarters and covered her with his coat. At Taylor, he received a telegram: 'Pet runaway. Child in charge of conductor. Wire return.' He went back to the car and threw back the cover from the sleeping child. She was hugging her dolly to her breast, muttering, 'I'm coming, Mamma.'
“Please don't send me back to papa. I'll be so good. I'll give you dolly. Mamma gave me dolly, but I'll let you play with her.”
This story highlights the perennial vulnerability of children in urban environments. While modern social services provide a more structured safety net than an individual conductor’s kindness, the theme of family separation and the desperate search for home remains a profound, recurring struggle in the Pacific Northwest.
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