Meanwhile the Chicago express roared into Annandale
and the private car was attached. Taylor watched
the trainmen with the cool interest of a man for whom
the proceeding had no novelty, while he continued to
dilate upon the nation's commercial opportunities. I
turned perforce, and walked with him back toward the
station, where Mrs. Taylor and her sister were talking
to the conductor.
Pickering came running across the platform with several
telegrams in his hand. The express had picked up
the car and was ready to continue its westward journey.
"I'm awfully sorry, Glenarm, that our stop's so
short,"-and Pickering's face wore a worried look as he
addressed me, his eyes on the conductor.
"How far do you go?" I asked.
"California. We have interests out there and I have
to attend some stock-holders' meetings in Colorado in
January."
"Ah, you business men! You business men!" I said
reproachfully. I wished to call him a blackguard then
and there, and it was on my tongue to do so, but I concluded
that to wait until he had shown his hand fully
was the better game.
The ladies entered the car and I shook hands with
Taylor, who threatened to send me his pamphlet on
The Needs of American Shipping, when he got back to
New York.
"It's too bad she wouldn't go with us. Poor girl!
this must be a dreary hole for her; she deserves wider
horizons," he said to Pickering, who helped him upon
the platform of the car with what seemed to be unnecessary
precipitation.
"You little know us," I declared, for Pickering's
benefit. "Life at Annandale is nothing if not exciting.
The people here are indifferent marksmen or there'd be
murders galore."
"Mr. Glenarm is a good deal of a wag," explained
Pickering dryly, swinging himself aboard as the train
started.
"Yes; it's my humor that keeps me alive," I responded,
and taking off my hat, I saluted Arthur Pickering
with my broadest salaam.