"I hope you'll make a fortune in your new business—"
"Him and me," Ernestine interrupted, nodding jocularly towards the banker, "are going into the laundry business together."
"You must write me all about it!"
"I will."
In a last confidential whisper Milly said,—"And some day marry a good man, dear!"
"Marry!!" Ernestine hooted, so that all could hear. "Me, marry! Not much—I'll leave the matrimony business to you."
Then they kissed.
There were tears in Ernestine's eyes as she stood waving a pocket-handkerchief after the receding train. Milly was at the rail of the observation platform, leaning on the brass sign and waving both hands to her old friends, Chicago, her past. Little Virginia at her side waved an inch or two of white also, while the smiling ranchman stood over them benignantly, protectingly, one hand on his wife's shoulder to keep her from falling over the rail.
When the train had swept out into the yards, the little party broke up. Horatio, who was choky, turned to his wife. Mrs. Horatio was already studying through her spectacles a suburban time-card to ascertain the next "local" for Elm Park. Ernestine and Walter Kemp slowly strolled up the train-shed together. The banker was the first to break the silence:—