This message, of course, drove all other thoughts from his mind. He had no time even to tell Oliver about it—he had to jump into an automobile and rush to catch the next train for the city. And all through the long, cold ride in ferry-boats and cabs he pondered this mystery. Alice’s party had not been expected for two weeks yet; and only two days before there had come a letter from Los Angeles, saying that they would probably be a week over time. And here she was home again!
He found there was an express from the West due at the hour named; apparently, therefore, Alice had not come in the Prentice’s train at all. The express was half an hour late, and so he paced up and down the platform, controlling his impatience as best he could. And finally the long train pulled in, and he saw Alice coming down the platform. She was alone!
“What does it mean?” were the first words he said to her.
“It’s a long story,” she answered. “I wanted to come home.”;
“You mean you’ve come all the way from the coast by yourself!” he gasped.
“Yes,” she said, “all the way.”
“What in the world—” he began.
“I can’t tell you here, Allan,” she said. “Wait till we get to some quiet place.”
“But,” he persisted. “The Prentice? They let you come home alone?”
“They didn’t know it,” she said. “I ran away.”