"But doesn't immediately command--is that it?"
"I suppose so."
"What must I wear to the train--my dress suit?"
"Don't be foolish, son. You'll have plenty of time to dress after you get home."
"Shall I drive, or walk?"
"Take the carriage. She'll be tired. Unhappy women are always tired."
"Are they tired because they're unhappy, or unhappy because they're tired? And do they get unhappier when they get more tired, or do they get more tired when they get unhappier?"
The Arrival
"Don't ask me any more conundrums to-night. I'm going to bed, to get my beauty sleep."
"You must have had a great many, judging by the results."
Madame smiled as she bent to kiss his rough cheek. "Good-night, my dear. Think of some other pleasant things and say them to-morrow night to Mrs. Lee."
"I'll be blest if I will," Alden muttered to himself, as his mother lighted a candle and waved her hand prettily in farewell. "If all the distressed daughters of all mother's old schoolmates are coming here, to cry on her shoulder and flood the whole place with salt water, it's time for me to put up a little tent somewhere and move into it."
By the next day, however, he had forgotten his ill-humour and was at the station fully ten minutes before six o'clock. As it happened, only one woman was among the passengers who left the train at that point.
"Mrs. Lee?" he asked, taking her suit-case from her.
"Yes. Mr. Marsh?"
"Yes. This way, please."
"How did you know me?" she inquired, as she took her place in the worn coupé that had been in the Marsh stables for almost twenty years.
"By your handwriting," he laughed, closing the door.
With Bag and Baggage
A smile hovered for a moment around the corners of her mouth, then disappeared.
"Then, too," he went on, "as you were the only woman who got off the train, and we were expecting you, I took the liberty of speaking to you."
"Did you ask the man to have my trunk sent up?"
"Trunk!" echoed Alden, helplessly. "Why, no! Was there a trunk?"
She laughed--a little, low rippling laugh that had in it an undertone of sadness. There was a peculiar, throaty quality in her voice, like a muted violin or 'cello. "Don't be so frightened, please, for I'm not going to stay long, really. I'm merely the sort of woman who can't stay over night anywhere without a lot of baggage."