CHAPTER II
TRAVELLERS THREE
"Ready, Marian? The Limited starts in thirty minutes. We haven't a minute to spare."
"Y-yes." Marian caught up her handbag and hurried into the cab. "Only my trunk keys—I'm not sure——"
"Your trunk keys! You haven't lost them, of all things!"
"No. Here they are, safe in my bag. But Empress has been so frenzied I haven't known which way to turn."
Poor insulted Empress, squirming madly in a wicker basket, glared at Rod, and lifted a wild, despairing yowl.
"You don't propose to leave Mount Vernon Street for the wilds of Illinois without a struggle, do you, Empress?" chuckled Rod. "Never you mind. You'll forget your blue silk cushion and your minced steak and cream, and you'll be chasing plebeian chipmunks in a week. Look at the river, Marian. You won't see it again in a long while."
Marian followed his glance. It was a silver hoar-frost morning. The sky shone a cloudless blue, the cold, delicious air sparkled, diamond-clear. Straight down Mount Vernon Street the exquisite little panel of the frozen Charles gleamed like a vista of fairyland. Marian stared at it a little wistfully.
"It will all be very different out West, I suppose. I wonder if any Western river can be half as lovely," she pondered.