Expressing their scorn and disdain by the angry flirt of their skirts,
the woman and girl whirled and walked briskly away toward the garage at
the end of the street.

"Praise th' heavens," Old Heck breathed fervently as he gazed
spell-bound after the retreating pair, "it wasn't them!"

"Carolyn June and the widow probably went back after all," Skinny said
without, looking around and with the barest trace of disappointment, now
that the danger seemed past, in his voice. "Maybe they got to thinking
about that telegram and decided not to come at last."

"More than likely that was it," Old Heck answered.

Steps sounded behind them. Skinny and Old Heck turned and again they
almost fainted at what they saw. The marshal, a leather traveling bag
in each hand, accompanied by two smartly dressed women, approached.

"These ladies are huntin' for you," he said to Old Heck, dropping the
bags and mopping his face with the sleeve of his shirt. "Guess they're
some kind of kin folks," he added.

Concealed by the freight sheds Carolyn June Dixon and Ophelia Cobb had
stepped from the Pullman at the rear of the train, unseen by Old Heck
and Skinny. Nor had either noticed, being engrossed with the couple that
had left than a moment before, the trio coming across from the station.

As the cook and her daughter by their very homeliness had appalled and
overwhelmed them, these two, Ophelia and Carolyn June, by their exactly
opposite appearance stunned Old Heck and Skinny and rendered them