bsence for a moment. Incidentally," she added, getting lazily
out of the chair, "it will illustrate just how I manage my system."

Her absence was purely theoretical. She stepped off the rug, went to the
"express office," and took a card from the desk. When she had stood it
upright behind the inkwell, Evadna read in large, irregular capitals:

"OUT. WILL BE BACK LATER."

Miss Georgie Howard paid no attention to the little giggle which went
with the reading, but stepped across to the ticket desk and to the
telegraph table, and put similar cards on display. Then she came back to
the rug, plumped down in her rocker with a sigh of relief, and reached
for a large, white box--the five pounds of chocolates which she had sent
for.

"I never eat candy when I'm in the office," she observed soberly. "I
consider it unprofessional. Help yourself as liberally as your digestion
will stand--and for Heaven's sake, gossip a little! Tell me all
about that bunch of nifty lads I see cavorting around the store
occasionally--and especially about the polysyllabic gentleman who seems
to hang out at the Peaceful Hart ranch. I'm terribly taken with him.
He--excuse me, chicken. There's a fellow down the line hollering his
head off. Wait till I see what he wants."

Again she left the rug, stepped to the telegraph instrument, and
fingered the key daintily until she had, with the other hand, turned
down the "out" card. Then she threw the switch, rattled an impatient
reply, and waited, listening to the rapid clicking of the sounder. Her
eyes and her mouth hardened as she read.

"Cad!" she gritted under her breath. Her fingers were spiteful as they
clicked the key in answer. She slammed the current off, set up the "out"
notice again, kicked the desk chair against the wall, and came back to
the "parlor" breathing quickly.

"I think it must be perfectly fascinating to talk that way to persons
miles off," said Evadna, eying the chittering sounder with something
approaching awe. "I watched your fingers, and tried to imagine what it
was they were saying--but I couldn't even guess."

Miss Georgie Howard laughed queerly. "No, I don't suppose you could,"
she murmured, and added, with a swift glance at the other: "They said,
'You go to the devil.'" She held up the offending hand and regarded it
intently. "You wouldn't think it of them, would you? But they have to
say things sometimes--in self-defense. There are two or three fresh
young men along the li