"Was that one of your scouts?" she asked.
"Yes."
"Did he come to tell you that there wasn't going to be any strike?"
"No."
"How lucidly communicative you are! Can't you see that I am fairly stifling with curiosity?"
"I'm sorry, but you shall not have the chance to say that I was overwrought twice in the same half-day."
"Howard! Don't be little and spiteful. I'll eat humble pie and call myself hard names, if you insist; only—gracious goodness! is that engine going to smash into our car?"
The anxious query hinged itself upon the approach of a big, eight-wheeled passenger flyer which was thundering down the yard on the track occupied by the Nadia. Within half a car-length of collision, the air-brake hissed, the siderods clanked and chattered, and the shuddering monster rolled gently backward to a touch coupling with the president's car.
Eleanor's hand was on her cousin's arm. "Howard, what does this mean?" she demanded.
"Nothing, just at present; it is merely a precaution."