Even after Mr. Price had thus been pushed out of the foreground, so to speak, Albert was denied the opportunity of taking his place by Helen's side. Her father had a few last messages to deliver, then Captain Zelotes shook her hand and talked for a moment, and, after that, the ladies of the sewing circle and the war work society felt it their duty to, severally and jointly, kiss her good-by. This last was a trying operation to watch.
Then the engine bell rang and the train began to move. Albert, running beside the platform of the last car, held up his hand for a farewell clasp.
“Good-by,” he said, and added in a whisper, “You'll write, won't you?”
“Of course. And so must you. Good-by.”
The last car and the handkerchief waving figure on its platform disappeared around the curve. The little group by the station broke up. Albert and his grandfather walked over to the office together.
“There goes a good girl, Al,” was Captain Lote's only comment. “A mighty good capable girl.”
Albert nodded. A moment later he lifted his hat to a group in a passing automobile.
“Who were those folks?” asked the Captain.
“The Fosdicks,” was the reply. “The people who are going to build down by the Inlet.”
It was Madeline and her mother. The latter had been serenely indifferent, but the young lady had smiled and bowed behind the maternal shoulders.