“Here y’are!  I made her!”

“I should say you did!” exclaimed Grenfall, climbing out and drawing her after him gently.  “Here’s your ten.”

“I must send you something, too, my good fellow,” cried the lady.  “What is your address—­quick?”

“William Perkins, O——­, West Virginny, ma’am.”

Lorry was dragging her toward the cars as the driver completed the sentence.  Several persons were running down the platform, dimly lighted from the string of car windows She found time to pant as they sped along: 

“He was not Light-horse Jerry, at all!”

III

MISS GUGGENSLOCKER

He laughed, looking down into her serious upturned face.  A brief smile of understanding flitted across her lips as she broke away from him and threw herself into the arms of tall, excited Uncle Caspar.  The conductor, several trainmen and a few eager passengers came up, the former crusty and snappish.

“Well, get aboard!” he growled.  “We can’t wait all night.”

The young lady looked up quickly, her sensitive face cringing beneath the rough command.  Lorry stepped instantly to the conductor’s side, shook his finger vigorously under his nose, and exclaimed in no uncertain tones: 

“Now, that’s enough from you!  If I hear another word out of you, I’ll make you sweat blood before tomorrow morning.  Understand, my friend.”

“Aw, who are you?” demanded the conductor, belligerently.

“You’ll learn that soon enough.  After this you’ll have sense enough to find out whom you are talking to before you open that mouth of yours.  Not another word!” Mr. Grenfall Lorry was not president of the road, nor was he in any way connected with it, but his well assumed air of authority caused the trainman’s ire to dissolve at once.

“Excuse me, sir.  I’ve been worried to death on this run.  I meant no offence.  That old gentleman has threatened to kill me.  Just now he took out his watch and said if I did not run back for his niece in two minutes he’d call me out and run me through.  I’ve been nearly crazy here.  For the life of me, I don’t see how you happened to be—­”

“Oh, that’s all right.  Let’s be off,” cried Lorry, who had fallen some distance behind his late companion and her uncle.  Hurrying after them, he reached her side in time to assist her in mounting the car steps.

“Thank you,” smiling down upon him bewitchingly.  At the top of the steps she was met by her aunt, behind whom stood the anxious man-servant and the maid.  Into the coach she was drawn by the relieved old lady, who was critically inspecting her personal appearance when Lorry and the foreigner entered.

“Ach, it was so wild and exhilarating, Aunt Yvonne,” the girl was saying, her eyes sparkling.  She stood straight and firm, her chin in the air, her hands in those of her aunt.  The little traveling cap was on the side of her head, her hair was loose and very much awry, strands straying here, curls blowing there in utter confusion.  Lorry fairly gasped with admiration for the loveliness that would not be vanquished.