Off he went, and was back in no time with the purser and Miss Smith’s pocketbook. There was a note inside it.
My dear Miss Smith:
At the moment of embarkation I have received a message that my father in Chicago is danger[Pg 244]ously ill, and wishes his family with him. I find we have just time to catch the next train. As it is too late to cancel our tickets, it seems advisable that you at least should continue with the trip, so that the entire outlay will not be wasted. You will, I am sure, have an instructive and entertaining account of your experience for Gladys when you rejoin us in New York. You will find your trunk and suit case in your stateroom.
As I do not know what money you may have in hand, I inclose an express money order, to cover whatever expenses may arise.
Wishing you a pleasant and profitable trip, I remain,
Very truly yours,
Henry Patterson.
“You see!” cried Miss Smith. “You see, I am—”
But she could not go on. The purser and the second officer—the latter had come up just then—decided that she ought to have a cup of tea, to quiet her nerves, so they all went over to a little tea room in the town.
It was there that Powers found her sitting at the table with two young men, all of them very jolly and cheerful. For a moment she was glad that he should see her like that—no longer forlorn and dejected, but a real human girl. Hat in hand, he stood beside her. He, too, tried to look jolly and cheerful, but he failed; and, looking up at him, Miss Smith felt a sudden sharp stab of regret. The adventure was over.
She introduced him to the two young men, and explained to him about the recovery of her purse.