But it was a promise Joan knew she would not have the courage to keep. And when she had waved her last gay farewell, and thrown her last kiss impartially out of the window to the group who had come into town to see her off, she settled back in the train which had brought her with such high hopes to her first failure, and said aloud, "Thank goodness that's over!"
"Pardon me—did you speak?" murmured a young man in the seat in front of her, turning round with a start; a wide-eared young man whom Joan recognized.
"Goodness!" she said in some dismay. "You seem to dog my footsteps, Mr. Blair. There's no escaping you!"
"Looks that way, don't it?" he grinned apologetically. "I've been in Philadelphia on a big order—Landed it, too!" he added in irrepressible triumph.
"Which is more than I did," sighed Joan; and guessing from her expression that a jest was intended, Mr. Blair laughed long and loudly. He was always very keen on the scent of a jest.
CHAPTER XIX
It was owing to this fortuitous train journey that one night, some weeks later, Mr. Archibald Blair found himself moving in what he considered very high society indeed. In the years when he had peddled papers on the street corners, or padded around with them on thin and sturdy legs of a Sabbath dawn, so that the world might have its news with its coffee and griddle-cakes for breakfast, Archie had amused himself and added to his mastery of his native tongue by reading an occasional account of a Galt House Ball.
"Social Event of the Season Magnificent Affair Given Last Evening To Mark The Début into Society of" etc., etc.
And here he was himself, part and parcel of a Galt House Ball! It was quite amazing.