"I got ter go," cried the chauffeur.
"I've got to wait," said Miss Witherspoon emphatically, "until my companion comes."
Without a word the man drove off to take his stand in the rear of the line while another taxi swept up, gathered in a group of travelers, and went on.
"How provoking," Miss Witherspoon cried. She was separated from her luggage and from Hertha. Never was anything so stupid.
Suddenly some one spoke at her elbow. "The young lady asked me to give you this."
It was Hertha's porter, holding out a note.
Miss Witherspoon opened it and read the few words written in the girl's careful hand.
"Thank you so much for your kindness, but I have decided to stay in New York. I think I shall prefer to be where no one knows anything about me. I'm sorry I put you to so much trouble." And below, written more hurriedly: "Don't worry over me, and thank you again."
"Where did she go?" Miss Witherspoon asked the boy, who was watching her with interest.
"I don't know," he answered, "I put her on a street car."