“Have I time to fill a bag?”
“Plenty,” I assured him, and, going out, I ordered the train held till I should give the word.
“What does it all mean?” asked Miss Cullen, joining me.
I laughed, and replied, “I’m doing a braver thing even than your party did; I’m holding up a train all by my lonesome.”
“But my brother came dashing in just now and said he was starting for Phœnix.”
“Let her go,” I called to the conductor, as Fred jumped aboard; and the train pulled out.
“I hope there’s nothing wrong?” Madge questioned, anxiously.
“Nothing to worry over,” I laughed. “Only a little more fun for our money. By the way, Miss Cullen,” I went on, to avoid her questions, “if you have your letters ready, and will let me have them at once, I can get them on No. 4, so that they’ll go East to-night.”
Miss Cullen blushed as if I had said something I ought not to have, and stammered, “I—I changed my mind, and—that is—I didn’t write them, after all.”
“I beg your pardon,—I ought to have known; I mean, it’s very natural,” I faltered and stuttered, thinking what a dunce I had been not to understand that both hers and Lord Ralles’s letters had been only a pretext to get away from the rest of us.