celona;
and I--I, for whom she had come, I was not there to meet her. Well,
when I did get back she was gone."

"Gone?--gone where?"

"Why, where else could she have gone but home again?"

"True. Being a girl of spirit, she never could stand such treatment
as that. But did she leave no message for you?"

"Not a word, either in writing or in any other way. I asked the hotel
people about her, but they knew nothing in particular. She had not
told anything about herself. She had come, and, after two or three
days, had gone. She had gone only the day before I got back."

"And you, of course, must have started after her all the way back to
England, and that's the reason why you are here--"

"Yes," said Harry: "the only hope I had was to overtake the train
that preceded me. It was not impossible that it might be delayed, and
that my train should come up with hers. That was my only hope, but of
course all this is now up."

"Oh, well," said Katie, in a consoling tone, "you'll see her again
before long, and you can explain it all; and when she finds out that
it all arose from an excess of zeal, she will see that your fault was
one on the right side, and she will love you all the better. And so
you will both have many and many a laugh over this queer
misadventure; and it will be something that will give flavor and
spice to all your future life. Why, I'd give anything to have just
such an adventure--I would, really. I wish I was in Miss Talbot's
place. I quite envy her--I do, really; that is," she added, with a
little confusion, "her adventure, you know."

"You have such a nice way of putting things," said Harry, "that I
wish I could always have you to go to for sympathy."

"Sympathy?" said Katie. "Oh, you know that's quite my forte."

Harry looked into her clear, sunny eyes as they were raised to his,
full of brightness, and archness, and joyousness.

"And won't you let me call you 'Katie,'" said he, "just while we're
travelling together? I feel so awfully well acquainted with you, you
know; and I've told you all about my affairs, you know, just as if
you were my oldest friend."

"I should like it above all things," said Katie. "I hate to be called
Miss Westlotorn by my friends. It's too formal."

"And you must call me 'Harry,'" said this volatile young man. "You
will, now, won't you?" he added, in a coaxing tone.

Katie did not prove obdurate.

"Well--Harry," she said, with a bewitching smile.

"I think you'r