I could wish, last
summer."

"I think you are altogether mistaken, Cousin Francis," said the good
lady, in whom there was no drop of match-making blood. "She has talked
very freely with me about him, and a young girl doesn't do that if there
is any sentiment in the air."

"I hope you are right. But it will do no harm to give ourselves the
benefit of the doubt. I fancy Chester didn't quite approve of the little
diversion last evening--on the engine, you know."

"Pooh! I don't believe he gave it a second thought."

"Possibly not; but he had a very good right to object. It was a reckless
bit of impropriety."

"You sat up for Gertrude last night; did you say as much to her?" the
chaperon asked, shrewdly.

"Not quite that," said the President, who was unwilling to go into
particulars.

"Because, if you did, it was injudicious, that's all. Gertrude is your
own daughter, and she is enough like you to resent anything of that kind
in a way to make you regretful. That accounts for the headache this
morning."

Gertrude's father smiled rather grimly. "I shall presently find a remedy
for the headache, and you'll see that it will work like a charm. But its
efficacy will depend upon your discretion. Not a word about the
passenger agent, if you please."

Mrs. Dunham promised, rather reluctantly, and Mr. Vennor put on his hat
and left the compartment. He had business in the Ariadne; and a little
later, Mrs. Burton, who was buttoning her shoe, looked up to find the
calculating eyes of the President making a calm and leisurely valuation
of her.

XIV

WITH DENVER IN SIGHT

There was the usual early morning confusion in the aisle of the Ariadne
when Brockway picked his way forward to section three over a litter of
opened hand-bags, lately polished shoes, and unshod feet. He found the
Burton section empty, with the porter putting the finishing touches to
his morning's work of scene-shifting.

"Yes, sah; de gemman's in de washroom, an' de lady----"

"Is right here," said a voice at Brockway's elbow. "Good-morning, Mr.
Frederick; how do you find yourself--or aren't you lost?"

The forty-minute lock-out had left scant time for preliminaries, and
Brockway left off the preamble.

"I'm not lost, but I'm going to be if you and John don't help me out.
Will you do it?"

"Sight unseen." The little lady was eying her shoes wistfully and hoping
that Brockway would be brief.

"I thought I could count on you. What is your