he said, writing the number of his telegraph frank in the
corner of the blank.

"Oh, yes," replied the operator, with an upward glance at the clock;
"there's plenty of time. I'll send it right away."

"But I ah--protest!" declared the querulous gentleman, and he failed not
to do so most emphatically after the President left the office.

The operator turned a deaf ear, and sent the message to Miss Vennor; and
when, in due course of time, Brockway's answer came, he sent it out to
the private car. The President was still dictating and was in the midst
of a letter when the yellow envelope was handed him, but he stopped
short and opened the telegram. The reading of Brockway's insolent
question imposed a severe test upon Mr. Vennor's powers of self-control,
and the outcome was not wholly a victory on the side of stoicism.

"Curse his impudence!" he broke out, wrathfully; "I'll make this cost
him something before he's through with it!" and he sprang to his feet
and hurried out with the inflammatory message in his hand.

It is a trite saying that anger is an evil counsellor, and whoso
hearkens thereto will have many things to repent of. No one knew the
value of this aphorism better than Francis Vennor, but for once in a way
he allowed himself to disregard it. He knew well enough that a
delicately worded hint to Burton would bring the general agent and his
wife and Gertrude back to Denver on the next train, but wrath would not
be satisfied with such a placable expedient. On the contrary, he
resolved to communicate directly with Gertrude herself, and to rebuke
her openly, as her undutiful conduct deserved.

In the telegraph office the operator was still having trouble with the
querulous gentleman, but the President went to the desk to write his
message, shutting his ears to the shrill voice of the gadfly.

"But, sir, I must ah--protest. I distinctly heard Mr. ah--Brockway tell
you to send anything I desired, and I demand that you send this; it was
part of the ah--stipulation, sir!"

"This" was a message of five hundred-odd words to the local railway
agent in the small town where Mr. Jordan had purchased his ticket,
setting forth his grievance at length; and the operator naturally
demurred. While he was trying to persuade the pertinacious gentleman to
cut the jeremiad down to a reasonable length, the President finished his
telegram to his daughter. It was curt and incisive.

"TO MISS GERTRUDE VENNOR,
"On Train