Jarvis came back, tickets in hand, and gave them to Sally with the little purse she had handed him.  Announcing that there was no time to lose he then convoyed the whole party through the door to the trains, using some influence which he possessed with the blue-capped official thereat to obtain the favour.  So the passengers already in the crowded sleeper were treated to the somewhat unusual spectacle of a particularly charming girl being brought aboard her train by a party of four quietly solicitous young men, even the youngest of them, by virtue of his height and broad shoulders, counting as a male “grown-up.”

Jarvis went off for a hasty interview with the Pullman conductor then hunted up the porter of Sally’s car, the “Lucatia,” and gave him certain instructions, accompanied by a transfer of something which brought a broad grin to that person’s dusky face, with the assertion, “Suah, sah—­I’ll make the young lady comf’able—­thank you, sah.”

He got back to the “Lucatia” only in time to hear the call of “all aboard,” from outside, to see the blue veil surrounded by three leave-taking brothers bestowing hurried but hearty testimonials of their affection and bidding her “Take care of yourself,” “Write often,” and “Don’t kill yourself working,” and to push past them as they made for the door, to say his own good-by.  It was easy for the interested fellow-travellers to see that this young man evidently was not a brother, for his farewell consisted only of a somewhat prolonged grip of the hand, his hat off, his eyes searching the blue ones lifted to his with the expression of one who cannot quite trust her lips to speak.  Then, without a word on either side, Jarvis had dropped Sally’s hand and was rushing to the door, for the train was under way.

Remembering suddenly that this happened to be the last car on the train when she came in, Sally hurried through it to the rear.  There they were, lined up in a solid row, and as she appeared, their hats came off and were waved in the air.  Beneath the bright electric lights of the station she could see their cheerful smiles, and she smiled back, waving her handkerchief as long as she could see them.  From their point of view the picture was quite as absorbing as from hers, for her slender figure holding to the brass rail of the platform against the background of the car looked both girlish and solitary, and as they watched it recede into the distance they were all of them hoping that it would not be long before they could welcome her back into that same great dingy station.

“If you have any pity on us, Jarve, come back to the house, and don’t go home to stay in town till she comes.  We shall be bluer than tombstones.”

This was Max’s double tribute to the homemaking qualities of his sister and to the partnership qualities of his friend, and Jarvis responded readily, for, truth told, it was the very thing he wanted to do most.  It seemed to him that while he should not miss Sally less in the house whose every corner would be eloquent of her absence, there would be a certain consolation in being there.  He had a queer feeling that she had not gone for a speedy return, and that more than one moon would change before they should see her again.  Meanwhile, it occurred to him that she would like to have him there for her brothers’ sake, since they wanted him.