on the train for Brenton and hurrying through a strange country to
her side.

When he reached Brenton he was disappointed not to find her when he
stepped from the train. The station had been so closely identified
with her through the long journey that he had lost sight of the fact
that it existed for any other purpose. But only a few station loafers
were there to greet him, and they revealed but an indifferent
interest. He approached one of them.

"Can you tell me where Miss Winthrop is stopping?"

The man looked blank.

"No one of that name in this town," he finally answered.

"Isn't this Brenton?"

"It's Brenton, right enough."

"Then she's here," declared Don.

"Is she visitin'?" inquired the man.

Don nodded.

"A cousin, or something."

A second man spoke up:--

"Ain't she the one who's stopping with Mrs. Halliday?"

"Rather slight, with brown eyes," volunteered Don.

"Dunno the color of her eyes," answered the first man, with a wink at
the second. "But thar's some one stoppin' thar. Been here couple days
or so."

"That's she," Don decided.

He drew a dollar bill from his pocket.

"I want one of you to take a note to her from me."

He wrote on the back of a card:--

I'm at the station. I must see you at once.

DON.

"Take that to her right away and bring me an answer," he ordered.

The man took both bill and card and disappeared.

CHAPTER XXIX

MOSTLY SALLY

It was an extremely frightened girl who within five minutes appeared
upon the station platform. She was quite out of breath, for she had
been running. As he came toward her with outstretched hands, she
stared at him from head to foot, as if to make sure he was not minus
an arm or a leg.

"Won't you even shake hands with me?" he asked anxiously.

"You--you gave me such a fright," she panted.

"How?"

"I thought--I thought you must have been run over."

He seemed rather pleased.

"And you cared?" he asked eagerly.

She was fast recovering herself now.

"Well, it wouldn't be unnatural to care, would it, if you expected to
find a friend all run over?"

"And, now that you find I'm not a mangled corpse, you don't care at
all."

Of course he wouldn't choose to be a corpse, because he would not have
been able to enjoy the situation; but, on the whole, he was sorry that
he did not have a mangled hand or something to show. Evidently his
whole hand did not interest her--she had not yet offered to take it.

"How