d, I'll stay here."

Laura left the window, and coming back into the room, sat down at the
piano.

"Just as you please," she said, realizing that he was watching her, and
trying her utmost to appear unconcerned. After playing a few bars, she
stopped and said in a more conciliatory tone:

"Will?"

"Yes."

"How long does it take to come from Buffalo?"

"Depends on the train," he answered laconically.

"About how long?" she persisted.

"Between eight and ten hours, I think." Looking up, he asked: "Some one
coming?"

Ignoring his question, she asked:

"Do you know anything about the trains?"

"Not much. Why don't you find out for yourself? Have Annie get the
timetable."

"I will," she said.

Leaving the piano, she went to the door and called:

"Annie! Annie!"

The negress appeared on the threshold.

"Yassum!"

"Go ask one of the hall-boys to bring me a New York Central timetable."

"Yassum!"

The maid crossed the room, and disappeared through another door. Laura,
with forced nonchalance, seated herself on the arm of the sofa, humming
a popular air. Brockton turned and faced her.

"Then you _do_ expect some one, eh?" he exclaimed.

Her heart was in her throat, but she remained outwardly calm as she
replied carelessly:

"Only one of the girls who used to be in the same company with me. But
I'm not sure that she's coming here."

"Then the wire was from her?"

"Yes."

"Did she say what train she was coming on?"

"No."

"Well, there are a lot of trains. About what time did you expect her
in?"

"She didn't say."

"Do I know her?"

"I think not. I met her while I worked in 'Frisco."

"Oh!"

He resumed reading his paper, and the next moment Annie re-entered with
a timetable.

"Thanks," said Laura, taking it. Then, pointing to the breakfast table,
she said: "Now take those things away, Annie."

The maid started in to gather up the dishes, while her mistress became
engrossed in a deep study of the timetable. Soon Annie left the room
with the loaded tray, and Laura looked up in despair.

"I can't make this out," she cried.

Brockton looked up and held out his hand.

"Give it here; maybe I can help you."

She rose, and, approaching the table, handed him the timetable, a
diabolical labyrinth of incomprehensible figures and words specially
compiled by railroad managers to puzzle and befog the traveling public.
But Brockton, from long practice, seemed familiar with its mysteries.