a
discordant note of rigidity and order in the confused prodigality of
desert growth. Io turned away from it, but followed its line until she
reached the station. No sign of life greeted her. The door was locked,
and the portable house unresponsive to her knocking. Presently, however,
she heard the steady click of the telegraph instrument and, looking
through the half-open office window, saw Banneker absorbed in his work.

"Good-morning," she called.

Without looking up he gave back her greeting in an absent echo.

"As you didn't come to see me, I've come to see you," was her next
attempt.

Did he nod? Or had he made no motion at all?

"I've come to ask important questions about trains," she pursued, a
little aggrieved by his indifference to her presence.

No reply from the intent worker.

"And 'tell sad stories of the death of kings,'" she quoted with a fairy
chuckle. She thought that she saw a small contortion pass over his
features, only to be banished at once. He had retired within the walls
of that impassive and inscrutable reserve which minor railroad officials
can at will erect between themselves and the lay public. Only the broken
rhythms of the telegraph ticker relieved the silence and furnished the
justification.

A little piqued but more amused, for she was far too confident of
herself to feel snubbed, the girl waited smilingly. Presently she said
in silken tones:

"When you're quite through and can devote a little attention to
insignificant me, I shall perhaps be sitting on the sunny corner of the
platform, or perhaps I shall be gone forever."

But she was not gone when, ten minutes later, Banneker came out. He
looked tired.

"You know, you weren't very polite to me," she remarked, glancing at him
slantwise as he stood before her.

If she expected apologies, she was disappointed, and perhaps thought
none the less of him for his dereliction.

"There's trouble all up and down the line," he said. "Nothing like a
schedule left west of Allbright. Two passenger trains have come through,
though. Would you like to see a paper? It's in my office."

"Goodness, no! Why should I want a newspaper here? I haven't time for
it. I want to see the world"--she swept a little, indicating hand about
her; "all that I can take in in a day."

"A day?" he echoed.

"Yes. I'm going to-morrow."

"That's as may be. Ten to one there's no space to be had."

"Surely you can get something for me. A section will do if