"Well, I thought," replied Mr. King, "from what I heard, that Atlantic
City might appear best with nobody there."

"Oh, there's always some one there. You know, it is a winter resort now.
And, by the way--But there's my train, and the young ladies are beckoning
to me." (Mrs. Cortlandt was never seen anywhere without a party of young
ladies.) "Yes, the Bensons passed through Washington the other day from
the South, and spoke of going to Atlantic City to tone up a little before
the season, and perhaps you know that Mrs. Benson took a great fancy to
you, Mr. King. Good-by, au revoir," and the lady was gone with her bevy
of girls, struggling in the stream that poured towards one of the
wicket-gates.

"Atlantic City? Why, Stanhope, you don't think of going there also?"

"I didn't think of it, but, hang it all, my dear fellow, duty is duty.
There are some places you must see in order to be well informed. Atlantic
City is an important place; a great many of its inhabitants spend their
winters in Philadelphia."

"And this Mrs. Benson?"

"No, I'm not going down there to see Mrs. Benson."

Expectancy was the word when our travelers stepped out of the car at Cape
May station. Except for some people who seemed to have business there,
they were the only passengers. It was the ninth of June. Everything was
ready--the sea, the sky, the delicious air, the long line of gray-colored
coast, the omnibuses, the array of hotel tooters. As they stood waiting