The Serpent's Tooth by B.M. Croker

As it happened, the kidnapper was not an experienced nurse, or accustomed to the sole charge of a fractious child, and little Cara proved unexpectedly peevish and obstreperous. The trip across to Boulogne was well enough, but once in the railway carriage, nothing seemed to please or pacify her; fruit, pictures, chocolates, were but temporary alleviations; her one shrill continuous cry, repeated a ‘crescendo,' was, "I want my Ninny -- I want my Ninny! I want my _Ninny_!" and the more her mother soothed and coaxed, the louder and more passionate became her screams. The miserable passengers in her compartment had no peace or rest, and thankfully parted at Bâle Station, with what a sleepless individual apostrophised, as, ‘that accursed brat.' It was also with a sigh of profound relief that her worn-out and haggard mother, with the treasure in her arms, climbed down into the airy, spacious station of Lucerne. As soon as she had claimed her luggage, she drove off in a little open trap to a well-known and well-recommended hotel in the old town. Here, the fugitive remained sequestered for several days, gathering herself together before she made the next plunge.

She engaged a Swiss girl to help with Cara -- a young lady that never could be left alone, and demanded incessant attention, and amusement. As she was carried through the streets, or walked on the Quai, her yellow hair and large blue eyes, attracted notice; people would exclaim and admire her, and so, early in her career, Miss Caroline Blagdon learned that she was a beauty, and ideas thus prematurely absorbed, remain firmly fixed throughout the remainder of a lifetime.