th Alec," and she was away again.

The minutes certainly were flying.

Janet looked after her. "There's something perfectly irresistible about
her, isn't there?" she suggested to her companion. He did not answer and
she glanced at him. He had pulled out a card-case from his pocket and was
writing something on one of the cards. He slipped the card into the big,
green paper-box he held.

"Suppose I take all our packages to the porter and have him put them in
her berth while she is off with Alec. Then she'll not have to bother with
them, getting on," he proposed. Janet assented, and in a minute Jarvis,
laden with packages, approached the porter. Retaining half his burden he
followed the porter into the car. He did not immediately return
therefrom, and when, three minutes afterward, the signal came for the
departure of the train, he was not in the group of whom she took leave.

"Has Jarvis gone? Say good-by for me to him, please, Jo," she whispered
as she embraced her friend. Waving the others back Max escorted her into
her car. In the passage they met Jarvis. Over her head the two young men
looked at each other.

"Good-by, sister," said Max, and kissed her, "I see Jarve wants me to cut
it short." With which tactful brotherly explanation he abruptly retraced
his steps to the vestibule, where he waited.

In the half-lit narrow passage Jarvis made the most of his minute of
grace, although Sally's hand was already extended, and a friendly
good-by, with a frank smile, was on her lips.

"Are you in such a hurry to be rid of me?" said he, taking the hand. "You
make me feel somehow as if you didn't care even for the old friendship.
Is that so, Sally?"

"Not at all. I care very much. It seems so good to see you all."

"To see 'us all' doesn't flatter me much." He smiled a little. "Sally,
may I write to you?"

"Do. Tell me all about everybody."

"Will you answer?"

"Now and then."

"You are--" He stopped, with a half impatient movement of his broad
shoulders.

"I'm Sally Lane." She said this very distinctly, even though both were
speaking under their breath. Then she laughed, with a delicate touch
of defiance.

"You certainly are," he agreed. "No doubt in the world of that. But I
want you to know I'm Jarvis Burnside, and that stands for something
too--something positive--and permanent. My letters will be signed by
that name."

"Mine--if I write any--now and then--will be signed by mine--The train is
moving. Goo