talking about not having cut it out a minute too soon. One
of them called, in at the broad low door, to some one inside, "All out?"
and a voice from far within responded, "Case here, yet; _I_ can't handle
it alone."

The others went into the car, and then, with an interval for some heavy
bumping and some strong language, they reappeared at the door with the
case, which Gaites was by this time not surprised to find inscribed with
the name and address of Miss Phyllis Desmond. He remained watching it,
while the men got it on the platform, so wholly inattentive to
Birkwall's plot that the most besotted young author could not have
failed to feel his want of interest. Birkwall then turned his vision
outward upon the object which engrossed his friend, and started with an
"Oh, hello!" and slapped him on the back.

Gaites nodded in proud assent, and Birkwall went on: "I thought you were
faking the name last night; but I didn't want to give you away. It was
the real thing, wasn't it, after all."

"The real thing," said Gaites, with his most toothful smile, and he
laughed for pleasure in his friend's astonishment.

"Well," Birkwall resumed, "she seems to be following _you_ up, old
fellow. This will be great for Polly, and for Miss Seaward, who wanted
you to follow _her_ up; and for all Burymouth, for that matter. Why,
Gaites, you'll be the tea-table talk for a week; you'll be married to
that girl before you know it. What is the use of flying in the face of
Providence? Come! There's time enough to get a ticket, and have your
check changed from Kent Harbor to Lower Merritt, and the Hill Country
express will be along here at nine o'clock. You can't let that poor
thing start off on her travels alone again!"

Gaites flushed in a joyful confusion, and put the joke by as well as he
could. But he was beginning to feel it not altogether a joke; it had
acquired an element of mystery, of fatality, which flattered while it
awed him; and he could not be easy till he had asked one of the
freight-handlers what had happened to the car. He got an answer--flung
over the man's shoulder--which seemed willing enough, but was wholly
unintelligible in the clang and clatter of a passenger-train which came
pulling in from the southward.

"Here's the Hill Country express now!" said Birkwall. "You won't change
your mind? Well, your Kent Harbor train backs down after this goes out.
Don't worry about the piano. I'll find out what's happened to the car i