and
then on to breakfast.

The dining car, all gleaming crystal and silver and white covers
within, also was surrounded by snow. The space outside the windows
seemed somewhat wider than that about the sleeping car. And a moment
before Eaton went forward, the last cloud had cleared and the sun had
come out bright. The train was still quite motionless; the great
drifts of snow, even with the tops of the cars on either side, made
perfectly plain how hopeless it would be to try to proceed without the
plow; and the heavy white frost which had not yet cleared from some of
the window-panes, told graphically of the cold without. But the dining
car was warm and cheerful, and it gave assurance that, if the train was
helpless to move, it at least offered luxuries in its idleness. As
Eaton stepped inside the door, the car seemed all cheer and good
spirits.

Fresh red carnations and ruddy roses were, as usual, in the cut-glass
vases on the white cloths; the waiters bore steaming pots of coffee and
bowls of hot cereals to the different tables. These, as usual, were
ten in number--five with places for four persons each, on one side of
the aisle, and five, each with places for two persons, beside the
windows on the other side of the car.

Harriet Dorne was sitting facing the door at the second of the larger
tables; opposite her, and with his back to Eaton, sat Donald Avery. A
third place was laid beside the girl, as though they expected Dorne to
join them; but they had begun their fruit without waiting. The girl
glanced up as Eaton halted in the doorway; her blue eyes brightened
with a look part friendliness, part purpose. She smiled and nodded,
and Avery turned about.

"Good morning, Mr. Eaton," the girl greeted.

"Good morning, Miss Dorne," Eaton replied collectedly. He nodded also
to Avery, who, stiffly returning the nod, turned back again to Miss
Dorne.

Amy and Constance, with their parents, occupied the third large table;
the other three large tables were empty. "D. S." was alone at the
furthest of the small tables; a traveling-salesman-looking person was
washing down creamed Finnan haddock with coffee at the next; the
passenger who had been alone in the second car was at the third; the
Englishman, Standish, was beginning his iced grape-fruit at the table
opposite Miss Dorne; and at the place nearest the door, an
insignificant broad-shouldered and untidy young man, who had boarded
the train at Spokane, had jus