thus:

_"Dear Kid:_

"Meet me Chicago usual place Friday large time my treat. MOTHER."

Then she had packed her bag, wired Mary Cutting that she would see her
Thursday, and had taken the first train out for Chicago.

You might have found the car close, stuffy, and uninteresting. Ten
years on the road had taught Emma McChesney to extract a maximum of
enjoyment out of a minimum of material. Emma McChesney's favorite
occupation was selling T. A. Buck's Featherloom Petticoats, and her
favorite pastime was studying men and women. The two things went well
together.

When the train stopped for a minute or two you could hear a faint
rattle and click from the direction of the smoking compartment where
three jewelry salesmen from Providence, Rhode Island, were indulging
in their beloved, but dangerous diversion of dice throwing. Just
across the aisle was a woman, with her daughter, Chicago-bound to buy
a trousseau. They were typical, wealthy small-town women smartly
garbed in a fashion not more than twenty minutes late. In the quieter
moments of the trip Emma McChesney could hear the mother's high-
pitched, East End Ladies' Reading Club voice saying:

"I'd have the velvet suit made fussy, with a real fancy waist to for
afternoons. You can go anywhere in a handsome velvet three-piece
suit."