Mr. Carter laughed. "I believe there is a faint likeness, which only goes to show that I have a very ordinary countenance."
"That is just what you have not, which is the curious part of it," said Mr. Morrison.
"Who wrote the story?" his companion asked.
"It is unsigned, and I have forgotten the name. She is a young lady of whom my wife and daughter are very fond."
At St. Louis the travellers separated with cordial good-byes, feeling like old friends, and Mr. Morrison rushed off to catch the train that would take him to his destination some hours earlier than he had expected to arrive.
Mr. Carter, gathering up his things in a more leisurely way, noticed The Young People's Journal lying on the seat, and put it in his bag.
CHAPTER NINETEENTH.
SURPRISES.
"Expect me Wednesday evening; will wire from St. Louis," so read the telegram from San Francisco; and on Wednesday morning Frances had just exclaimed over her oatmeal, "O dear, what a long day this will be!" when the door opened and there stood a familiar figure, looking, oh, so bright and well!