Traveling
Salesman's seat.

But it was not until the Young Electrician had come striding back to
his seat, and wrapped himself up in the fold of a big newspaper, and
not until the train had started on again and had ground out another
noisy mile or so, that the Traveling Salesman spoke again--and this
time it was just a little bit surreptitiously.

"What--you--crying--for?" he asked with incredible gentleness.

"I don't know, I'm sure," confessed the Youngish Girl, snuffingly. "I
guess I must be tired."

"U-m-m," said the Traveling Salesman.

After a moment or two he heard the sharp little click of a watch.

"Oh, dear me!" fretted the Youngish Girl's somewhat smothered voice.
"I didn't realize we were almost two hours late. Why, it will be dark,
won't it, when we get into Boston?"

"Yes, sure it will be dark," said the Traveling Salesman.

After another moment the Youngish Girl raised her forehead just the
merest trifle from the back of the Traveling Salesman's seat, so that
her voice sounded distinctly more definite and cheerful.
"I've--never--been--to--Boston--before," she drawled a little
casually.

"What!" exclaimed the Traveling Salesman. "Been all around the
world--and never been to Boston?--Oh, I see," he added hurriedly,
"you're afraid your friends won't meet you!"

Out of the Youngish Girl's erstwhile disconsolate mouth a most
surprising laugh issued. "No! I'm afraid they _will_ meet me," she
said dryly.

Just as a soldier's foot turns from his heel alone, so the Traveling
Salesman's whole face seemed to swing out suddenly from his chin, till
his surprised eyes stared direct into the Girl's surprised eyes.

"My heavens!" he said. "You don't mean that _you've_--been writing
an--'indiscreet letter'?"

"Y-e-s--I'm afraid that I have," said the Youngish Girl quite blandly.
She sat up very straight now and narrowed her eyes just a trifle
stubbornly toward the Traveling Salesman's very visible astonishment.
"And what's more," she continued, clicking at her watch-case
again--"and what's more, I'm on my way now to meet the consequences of
said indiscreet letter.'"

"Alone?" gasped the Traveling Salesman.

The twinkle in the Youngish Girl's eyes brightened perceptibly, but
the firmness did not falter from her mouth.

"Are people apt to go in--crowds to--meet consequences?" she asked,
perfectly pleasantly.

"Oh--come, now!" said the Traveling Salesman's most persuasive voice.
"You don't want to go