“You will write to me as often as you can, and I will answer every one of your letters. And—listen here, Sam,” she added, in a whisper that the long-legged boy had to stoop to catch, “I won’t marry a royal duke if I can resist the temptation! Good-by.”
The whole party hurried out of the building to the platform, where the train had just stopped, with its puffing and blowing engine.
Mr. Force showed his tickets, and the party were conducted to their car. In the confusion of a final leave-taking, then and there, between two such large parties, Joshua, who did not at all like the looks of things in general, with the long train of cars, the panting engine, the steam, the smoke, the crowd, the baggage heavers, the excitement, and the general “hullabuloo,” and who feared that he might lose sight of his family in this crash of worlds, managed to slip into the car, between Wynnette’s duster and Gipsy’s arms full of shawls, and to ensconce himself under the broad lounge in the compartment.
The last kisses were given, the last “God bless you” spoken, and the travelers were seated in their compartment not ten seconds before the train started.
“Now!” exclaimed Wynnette, triumphantly. “Have we had the least trouble with Joshua?”
“Not yet,” curtly replied her father. “Where is he?”
“Under the sofa—and Rosemary, Elva and myself, by sitting here, hide him from view.”
“Very well. Keep him quiet, if you can.”
The train was rushing on at express speed, when the conductor came along to collect the tickets. He entered their compartment. Joshua considered his appearance an unwarrantable intrusion, and told him so in a low, thunderous growl.
“What’s that?” suddenly demanded the conductor, looking around.