The girls were too miserable to talk. They kept staring down the empty tracks, not quite believing, yet hoping the train would return.
At last the train, beautifully clean, slid down the tracks before them. The girls stood together on the train as it began to move. “Be sure to write,” Judy said tensely. “Remember, everything about him.” Addresses were hurriedly exchanged. Feeling almost like sisters who have just met, only to be cruelly torn apart, they kissed fondly and separated, Audrey to her car and Judy to the Vista Dome where she had left her parents peacefully sleeping.
Glenwood Springs, the railroad station for Aspen, was the next stop. The Luries hurried back to their car.
Their berths were made up and the luggage was once again piled on the seats and under them. Mr. Lurie methodically counted them. “One, two, three—where’s the viola? I don’t see it!—” His voice was almost a gasp.
“The porter has probably taken it out with our large case,” Minna said confidently, but her face was as white as his. “I’ll ring for him.”
The porter appeared. “Where’s my viola?” Mr. Lurie asked in a voice that scarcely concealed his rage.
“Your what, Sir?” the porter asked calmly.
“My viola,” Mr. Lurie snapped. “It looks like a violin, only larger. It was in a black case. It’s not here. We’ve looked everywhere.” His voice shook. “Did you take it out with any other baggage?”
The porter shook his head. “I remember that violin thing. Just took the things from the bed, laid them down while I made up the berths.”
“And why did you make up my berth? Didn’t I ask you to leave it alone?”