and thrusting the prickly
flowers into Milly's arms. "My! I thought I'd miss the train."

"Oh, Ernestine! why did you do that, dear?" Milly exclaimed in a pleased
voice.

"It's the last of the Cake Shop!" Ernestine replied with a grim smile.
And the roses were almost literally the sole remains of that defunct
enterprise, having taken the last of Ernestine's dollars.

"They're perfectly gorgeous--it was lovely of you to think of bringing
them for me. I'll cut the stems and put them in water and they will keep
all the way to the Coast--and remind me of you," Milly said, who had
formed the habit of receiving floral offerings.

She handed the awkward bunch over to "Husband," who hastened dutifully
to place them in their compartment.

"He's on his job," Ernestine grinned. The banker laughed.

"That's what we men are made for, isn't it, Milly?"

"Of course!"

She was in her right element once more, the centre of the
picture,--becomingly dressed in a gray travelling suit, "younger than
ever," about to start on a wonderful three days' journey to a strange
new land, with her faithful and adoring knight. What more was there in
life?

* * * * *

"All aboard!" the conductor droned.

Exclamations and final embraces. Milly came to Ernestine Geyer last.

"Good-by, dear! You've been awfully good to me--I can never forget it!"

"Yes, you will--that's all right," Ernestine replied gruffly, not
knowing exactly what she was saying.

"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 o