a
few new friends for our line. But if you don't approve----"

"Don't misunderstand me," interrupted the President, with well-feigned
magnanimity; "as I said, I came to ask a favor. You met my daughter,
Gertrude, when we were out last summer, I believe?"

"Yes, at Manitou." The general agent was far beyond soundings on the sea
of mystery by this time.

"Well, you must know she took a great fancy to your wife, and when I
heard of this arrangement, I determined to ask you to take her along
with you for the day. May I count upon it?"

"Why, certainly; we shall be delighted," Burton rejoined. "Let me
tell----"

But the President stopped him. He had taken time to reflect that a
little secrecy might be judicious at this point; and he was shrewd
enough to distrust women in any affair bordering upon the romantic. So
he said:

"Suppose we make it a little surprise for both of them. Keep it to
yourself, and when your train is ready to leave, I'll bring Gertrude
over to you. How will that do?"

Burton was in a fair way to lose his head at being asked to share a
secret with his President, and he promised readily.

"Not a word. Mrs. Burton will be delighted. I'll be on the lookout for
you."

So it was arranged; and with a gracious word of leave-taking for the
wife, Mr. Vennor went back to his car, rubbing his hands and smiling
inscrutably. He found his daughter curled up in the great wicker chair
in an otherwise unoccupied corner of the central compartment.

"Under the weather this morning, Gertrude?" he asked, wisely setting
aside the constraint which might naturally be supposed to be an
unpleasant consequence of their latest interview.

"Yes, a little," she replied, absently.

"I presume you haven't made any plans for the day," he went on; "I fancy
you don't care to go visiting with the Beaswicke girls."

"No, indeed; I can do that at home."

"How would you like to go up to Silver Plume with Mr. Brockway's party?"

She knew well enough that her father's cold eyes had surprised the
sudden flash of gladness in hers, but she was not minded to reopen the
quarrel.

"Oh, that would be delightful," she said, annulling the significance of
the words with the indifference of her tone; "quite as delightful as it
is impossible."

"But it isn't impossible," said the President, blandly; "on the
contrary, I have taken the liberty of arranging it--subject to your
approval, of course. I chanced upon two old friends of ours