"I now think we can sit up to-night in the Valley City
waiting-room, and save the price of lodgings. Until twelve they would
think we were waiting for the midnight train; after that, the night
porter, who comes on duty then, would suppose it was the early morning
express."

"Then you have decided to go through to Valley City?" asked Anne.

"Yes, since by this arrangement we can do it without expense."

Two trains stopped at New Macedonia for breakfast, one eastward bound
from over the Alleghanies, the other westward bound from New York.
Jeanne-Armande's strategy was to enter the latter while its passengers
were at breakfast, and take bodily possession of a good seat, removing,
if necessary, a masculine bag or two left there as tokens of ownership;
for the American man never makes war where the gentler sex is concerned,
but retreats to another seat, or even to the smoking-car, with silent
generosity.

Breakfast was now over; the train-boy was exchanging a few witticisms
with the pea-nut vender of the station, a brakeman sparred playfully
with the baggage porter, and a pallid telegraph operator looked on from
his window with interest. Meanwhile the conductor, in his stiff official
cap, pared a small apple with the same air of fixed melancholy and
inward sarcasm which he gave to all his duties, large and small; when it
was eaten, he threw the core with careful precision at a passing pig,
looked at his watch, and called out, suddenly and sternly, "All aboard!"
The train moved on.

It was nine o'clock. At ten there came into the car a figure Anne
knew--Ward Heathcote.

CHAPTER XIX.

"Man is a bundle of contradictions, tied together with
fancies."--PERSIAN PROVERB.

"The might of one fair face sublimes my love,
For it hath weaned my heart from low desires.
Nor death I heed, nor purgatorial fires.
Forgive me if I can not turn away
From those sweet eyes that are my earthly heaven,
For they are guiding stars, benignly given
To tempt my footsteps to the upward way."

--MICHAEL ANGELO.

Dire was the wrath of Helen Lorrington when, having carefully filled the
measure of her lost sleep, she sent a little note across to Anne, and
answer was returned that Miss Douglas was gone.

Mrs. Lorrington, with compliments to Miss Vanhorn, then begged (on a
card) to be informed _where_ Miss Douglas was gone. Miss Vanhorn, with
compliments to Mrs. Lorrington (also on a card