A Romance in Transit Read online

  XV

  YARD-LIMITS

  It was while Brockway was making his second circuit of the private carthat Mrs. Burton looked up and encountered the calculating gaze of thePresident.

  "Ah--good-morning, Mrs. Burton; you remember me, I see. On your way backto Utah, are you?"

  "Yes--" the "sir" was on the tip of her tongue, but she managed tosuppress it. "We have been to Chicago, to the passenger meeting."

  "So I inferred. Do you enjoy Chicago, Mrs. Burton?"

  She felt that five minutes of this would unhinge her reason, but shemade shift to answer, intelligently: "Yes, in a way; but I've never beenabout much. Mr. Burton is always so busy when we are there."

  "Precisely; always busy; that is the whole history of civilized man intwo words, isn't it? But where is your good husband?"

  "He is in the wash-room," she began; but at that moment Burton appeared.

  "Ha!" said the President; "good-morning, Mr. Burton. You didn't expectto find me here chatting with your wife, did you?"

  "Well, no, not exactly--that is--" Burton's one weakness lay in unduedeference to his superior officers, and he stumbled helplessly. But hiswife came promptly to the rescue.

  "It's such a distinction, Mr. Vennor, that we don't know how to properlyacknowledge it," she retorted, laughing, "Will you excuse me if I finishbuttoning my shoe?"

  "Certainly, certainly"--the President's tone was genially paternal; "Imerely wanted to have a word with Mr. Burton;" and he rose and drew thegeneral agent across to the opposite section.

  "Sit down, sit down, Burton; don't stand on ceremony with me," he said,patronizingly. "I came to ask a favor of you, and positively youembarrass me."

  Burton sat down mechanically.

  "I learned a few minutes ago through young Brockway that you were on thetrain," the President continued, lowering his voice, "and I understandthat he wishes you to take charge of his party for the day on the tripup Clear Creek Canyon. Has he spoken to you about it?"

  "Yes; he was here just now." Burton answered as he had satdown--mechanically.

  "And you consented to do it, I presume?"

  "Why, yes; he asked it as a personal favor, and I thought I might make afew new friends for our line. But if you don't approve----"

  "Don't misunderstand me," interrupted the President, with well-feignedmagnanimity; "as I said, I came to ask a favor. You met my daughter,Gertrude, when we were out last summer, I believe?"

  "Yes, at Manitou." The general agent was far beyond soundings on the seaof mystery by this time.

  "Well, you must know she took a great fancy to your wife, and when Iheard of this arrangement, I determined to ask you to take her alongwith you for the day. May I count upon it?"

  "Why, certainly; we shall be delighted," Burton rejoined. "Let metell----"

  But the President stopped him. He had taken time to reflect that alittle secrecy might be judicious at this point; and he was shrewdenough to distrust women in any affair bordering upon the romantic. Sohe said:

  "Suppose we make it a little surprise for both of them. Keep it toyourself, and when your train is ready to leave, I'll bring Gertrudeover to you. How will that do?"

  Burton was in a fair way to lose his head at being asked to share asecret with his President, and he promised readily.

  "Not a word. Mrs. Burton will be delighted. I'll be on the lookout foryou."

  So it was arranged; and with a gracious word of leave-taking for thewife, Mr. Vennor went back to his car, rubbing his hands and smilinginscrutably. He found his daughter curled up in the great wicker chairin an otherwise unoccupied corner of the central compartment.

  "Under the weather this morning, Gertrude?" he asked, wisely settingaside the constraint which might naturally be supposed to be anunpleasant consequence of their latest interview.

  "Yes, a little," she replied, absently.

  "I presume you haven't made any plans for the day," he went on; "I fancyyou don't care to go visiting with the Beaswicke girls."

  "No, indeed; I can do that at home."

  "How would you like to go up to Silver Plume with Mr. Brockway's party?"

  She knew well enough that her father's cold eyes had surprised thesudden flash of gladness in hers, but she was not minded to reopen thequarrel.

  "Oh, that would be delightful," she said, annulling the significance ofthe words with the indifference of her tone; "quite as delightful as itis impossible."

  "But it isn't impossible," said the President, blandly; "on thecontrary, I have taken the liberty of arranging it--subject to yourapproval, of course. I chanced upon two old friends of ours who aregoing with the party, and they will take care of you and bring you backthis evening."

  "Friends of ours?" she queried; "who are they?"

  "Ah, I promised not to tell you beforehand. Will you go?"

  "Certainly, if you have arranged it," she rejoined, still speakingindifferently because she was unwilling to show him how glad she was.For she was frankly glad. The glamour of last night's revelation wasover the recollection of those other days spent with Brockway, and shewas impatiently eager to put her impressions quickly to the test ofrepetition--to suffer loss, if need be, but by all means to make sure.And because of this eagerness, she quite overlooked the incongruity ofsuch a proposal coming from her father--an oversight which Mr. Vennorhad shrewdly anticipated and reckoned upon.

  It was 7.30, and the train was clattering through the Denver yards,measuring the final mile of the long westward run. Gertrude rose to goand get ready.

  "You needn't hurry," said her father; "the narrow-gauge train doesn'tleave for half an hour. I'll come for you when it is time to go."

  He watched her go down the compartment and enter her stateroom withoutstopping to speak to any of the others. Then he held up his finger forthe secretary.

  "Harry, when the train stops, I want you should get off and see whereBrockway goes. You know him, and you might make an excuse to talk withhim. When you have found out, come and tell me. Do you understand?"

  "Yes, sir," said Quatremain; and when he had kicked his pride into aproper attitude of submission, he went about the errand.