Meanwhile a waiter was hovering about Linda Riggs’ chair. She beckoned him, took the check nonchalantly, and with a pencil wrote her father’s name upon it, passing both the check and her visiting card to the negro.
Bess watched breathlessly. It would have been the height of human delight, in Bess Harley’s opinion, if she could do that.
The head-waiter came and bowed before Linda Riggs and showed that he appreciated the honor of her presence in the car. Bess forgot to drink her tea, and only crumbled her cake while she secretly watched the arrogant girl.
Bess had felt her anger rise at the unknown girl who so insulted Nan Sherwood, when first she had been told about the confusion over the traveling bags. But having heard the particulars of who Linda Riggs was, and of her father’s riches, Bess’ anger on her chum’s behalf was soon drowned in curiosity.
She dawdled over her tea and cake until the train arrived at the junction, where another chair-car was in waiting. It was then, when Linda Riggs gathered up her purse and vanity bag, preparatory to leaving the dining car, that Bess Harley made a mortifying discovery.
She wished to pay her own modest check. Perhaps she would get into the corridor of the car at the same time as the stylishly gowned girl, and Linda might speak. But clutching her gloves and looking wildly all about, Bess could not find her hand-bag.
Had Nan Sherwood had the first suspicion just then of her chum’s predicament she would have flown to her assistance. But the train had halted, been broken in two, and the forward part of it had gone off with the locomotive to couple on to the waiting chair-car.
Nan asked the brakeman, and learned it would be ten minutes or more before the train would go on. The junction was not a very attractive spot; but already Nan was tired of riding. She asked Professor Krenner, who was reading, if he would look out for her baggage, and then she left the car.
Away up on a side track she saw the main part of the train, puffing down. The station, a weather-beaten, ugly old building, was not near. Indeed, there were not half a dozen houses in sight.
There were uncut weeds along the track, the cinderpaths were baked hard by the sun, and the whole situation was unlovely.