This state of irresolution continued until the boat touched the wharf, and the passengers were leaving.  Mary was awake again, and kept asking, every few moments, to go home.

“Yes, dear, we will go home,” the mother would reply, in a tone of encouragement, while her own mind was in the greatest uncertainty and distress.

“Why don’t papa come?” asked the child, as one after another moved away, and they were left standing almost alone.  At this moment, an Irishman, with a whip in his hand, came up, and said—­

“Want a carriage, ma’am?”

Mrs. Lane hesitated a moment or two, while she thought hurriedly, and then replied—­

“Yes.”

“Very well, ma’am; I’ll attend to you.  Where is your baggage?”

“I have only this basket with me.”

“Ah! well; come along.”  And Mrs. Lane followed the man from the boat.

“Where shall I drive you?” he asked, after she had entered the carriage.

There was a pause, with apparent irresolution.

“I am a stranger here,” said Mrs. Lane innocently.  “I want to obtain pleasant accommodations for a day or two.  Can you take me to a good place?”

“Faith, and I can—­as good as the city will afford.  Do you wish one of the tip-top places, where they charge a little fortune a week; or a good comfortable home at a reasonable price?”

“I want a comfortable, retired place, where the charges are not extravagant.”

“Exactly; I understand.”

And the driver closed the door, and, mounting his box, drove off.  At the end of ten minutes the carriage stopped, the steps were let down, and Mrs. Lane, after descending, was shown into a small parlour, with dingy furniture.  A broad, red-faced Irish woman soon appeared, at the summons of the driver.

“I’ve brought you a lady customer, Mrs. McGinnis, d’ye see?  And you’re just the one to make her at home and comfortable.  She’s a stranger, and wants a quiet place for a day or two.”

“And, in troth, she’ll find it here, as ye well say, John Murphy.  Will the lady put off her bonnet?  We’ll have her room ready in a jiffy!  Much obleeged to yees, John Murphy, for remembering us.  What a darlint of a child; bless its little heart!”

“What must I pay you?” asked Mrs. Lane, hoarsely, turning to the driver.

“One dollar, ma’am,” was replied.

Mrs. Lane drew forth her purse, towards which the Irishwoman glanced eagerly, and took therefrom the sum charged, and paid the man, who immediately retired.  The landlady followed him out, and stood conversing with him at the door for several minutes.  When she returned, she was less forward in her attentions to her guest, and somewhat inquisitive as to who she was, where she had come from, and whither she was going.  All these Mrs. Lane evaded, and asked to have her room prepared as quickly as possible, as she did not feel very well, and wished to retire.