passing motor bound for Pasadena, and was snatched from my sight like Elijah in the chariot—­he was off to get a new driving shaft.  The smiling Helen followed in a Ford full of old ladies.  I elected to travel by train and sat for hours in a small station waiting for the so-called “express.”  In a hasty division of the lunch I got all the hard-boiled eggs, and of course one can eat only a limited number of them, though I will say that a few quite deaden one’s appetite.

I had an amazing collection of bags, coats, and packages, and was dreading embarking on the train.  However, I have a private motto, “There is a way.”  There was.  The only occupant of the waiting-room besides myself was a very dapper gentleman of what I should call lively middle age, with very upstanding gray mustaches.  I took him to be a marooned motorist, also.  He was well-dressed, with the added touch of an orange blossom in his button-hole, and he had a slightly roving eye.  His hand-baggage was most “refined.”  I had noticed him looking my way at intervals, and wondered if he craved a hard-boiled egg; I could easily have spared him one!  While I am certainly not in the habit of seeking conversation with strange gentlemen, there are always exceptions to everything, and I concluded that this was one.  I smiled!  We chatted on the subject of the flora and fauna of California in a perfectly blameless way till my train whistled, when he said, “I am going to carry those bags for you, if you will allow me!” I thanked him aloud and inwardly remarked, “I have known that for a long time!”

What made it especially pleasant was that I was going north and he was going south.  So ended my Adventure—­not all Solitude, if you like, but as near it as one can achieve with comfort.  The amazing thing about it was how well I got on with myself, for I don’t think I’m particularly easy to live with.  I must ask J——.  Probably it was the novelty.

[Illustration]

A SABINE FARM

I once remarked that I thought New York City a most friendly and neighborly place, and was greeted with howls of derision.  I suppose I said it because that morning a dear old lady in an oculist’s office had patted me, saying, “My dear, it would be a pity to put glasses on you,” and an imposing blonde in a smart Fifth Avenue shop had sold me a hat that I couldn’t afford either to miss or to buy, for half price, because she said I’d talked to her like a human being, the year before—­all of which had warmed my heart.  I think perhaps my statement was too sweeping.  Since we have changed oceans I notice that the atmosphere of the West has altered my old standards somewhat.  There is an easy-going fellowship all through every part of life on this side of the Rocky Mountains.