w heard
'em call her Miss Garnet."

Their attention was diverted by the porter saying at the only section
still curtained, "Breakfus' at next stop, seh. No, seh, it's yo' on'y
chaynce till dinneh, seh. Seh? No, seh, not till one o'clock dis
afternoon, seh."

"Is that gentleman sick?" asked the younger commercial man, wishing Miss
Garnet to know what a high-bred voice and tender heart he had.

"Who? numb' elevm? Humph! he ain't too sick to be cross. Say he ain't
sleep none fo' two nights. But he's gitt'n' up now."

The solicitous traveler secured a seat at table opposite Miss Garnet and
put more majestic gentility into his breakfasting than he had ever done
before. Once he pushed the sugar most courteously to the lady she was
with, and once, with polished deference, he was asking the gentleman if
he could reach the butter, when a tardy comer was shown in and given the
chair next him. As this person, a young man as stalwart as he was
handsome, was about to sit down, he started with surprise and exclaimed
to Miss Garnet,

"Why! You've begun----Why, are we on the same train?"

And she grew visibly prettier as she replied smilingly,

"You must be Number Eleven, are you not?"

Coming out of the place the young lady's admirer heard her introduce
Number Eleven to "Mr. and Mrs. Fair," and Mr. Fair, looking highly
pleased, say,

"I don't think I ever should have recognized you!"

Something kept the train, and as he was joined by his large-eared
friend--who had breakfasted at the sandwich counter--he said,

"See that young fellow talking to Mr. Fair? That's the famous John
Marsh, owner of the Widewood lands. He's one of the richest young men in
Dixie. Whenever he wants cash all he's got to do is to go out and cut a
few more telegraph-poles--O laugh if you feel like it, but I heard Miss
Garnet tell her friends so just now, and I'll bet my head on anything
that girl says." The firm believer relighted his cigar, adding
digressively, "I've just discovered she's a sister-in-law"--puff,
puff--"of my old friend, General Halliday"--puff, puff--"president of
Rosemont College. Well, away we go."

The train swept on, the smoking-room filled. The drummer with the large
ears let his companion introduce "Mr. Marsh" to him, and was presently
so pleased with the easy, open, and thoroughly informed way in which
this wealthy young man discussed cigars and horses that he put aside his
own reserve, told a risky story, and manfully comp