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

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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.




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