lt, and
was off down the mile road to the station, All conveyances going to that
train had passed quarter-hour before, and the course was nearly clear.

"There's the train's smoke at the tunnel. You can't do it," asserted
Chester, pointing to the black hole a few rods to one side of the
station whence a gray cloud was issuing. "She only makes a two minute
stop. You won't more than get on board before--"

"If I get on board you drive into the city and meet me there, will you?"
begged Burns.

"I can't drive the Imp, Red; you know I can't."

"Then 'phone Johnny Caruthers from the station and send him in for me.
That'll give me fifteen minutes on the train."

"What's the use? Pauline'll be at your elbow every minute. She'll--"

But Burns was paying no attention. He was taking the Imp past a
lumbering farm-wagon with only two inches to spare between himself and
the ditch. Then the car was at the station, Burns was out and through
the building, through the gate and upon the slowly-moving train after
a moment's hasty argument with a conductor to whom he could show no
ticket. On the platform James Macauley, junior, and Martha Macauley,
Winifred Chester, and four small children of assorted ages stared after
the big figure bolting into the Pullman. Bobby Burns gave a shriek of
delight followed by a wail of disappointment.

"By George, he's turned up, after all!" exulted Macauley, and the two
women looked at each other with meaning, relieved glances.

In the car, the passengers observed interestedly the spectacle of a
large man with a mop of fiery red hair, from which he had pulled a
leather cap, striding, dust-covered, into the car and up to the two
prettiest young women there. One of these very smartly clad in blue,
received him with looks half gay, half pouting, and with a storm of
talk. The other, in gray, with a face upon which no eye could rest once
without covertly or openly returning in deference to its charm, gave him
a quiet hand and turned away again to wave her farewell to the group of
friends on the platform.

"Take my chair and I'll perch on the arm of Ellen's," commanded
Pauline, "while you explain, apologize and try to make your peace with
us. You'll find it hard work. I may smile for the sake of appearances,
but inside I'm really awfully angry. So is Ellen, though she doesn't
show it."

Thus Pauline, indefinitely prolonged and repeated, with variations,
interpolations, interruptions. It didn't matter;