"Baggage transferred?"

"Cab, sir?"

"Go to the devil--yes, here! Take these traps and these checks
and rush my stuff to No.---, W--- Avenue. Trunks just in on
B.& O.," he cried, tossing his burdens to a transfer man and
giving him the checks so quickly that the fellow's sleepy eyes
opened wider than they had been for a month. Relieved of his
impedimenta, he returned to the station.

"Good morning, Mr. Lorry. Are you in too much of a hurry to see
your friends?" cried a clear, musical voice, and he stopped as if
shot. The anxious frown flew from his brow and was succeeded
instantaneously by a glad smile. He wheeled and beheld her, with
Aunt Yvonne, standing near the main entrance to the station.
"Why, good morning," he exclaimed, extending his hand gladly. To
his amazement she drew herself up haughtily and ignored the
proffered hand. Only for a brief second did this strange and
uncalled--for hauteur obtain. A bright smile swept over her
face, and her repentant fingers sought his timidly, even
awkwardly. Something told him that she was not accustomed to
handshaking; that same something impelled him to bend low and
touch the gloved fingers with his lips. He straightened, with
face flushed, half fearful lest his act had been observed by
curious loungers, and he had taken a liberty in a public place
which could not be condoned. But she smiled serenely,
approvingly. There was not the faintest sign of embarrassment or
confusion in the lovely face. Any other girl in the world, he