Part 27 (1/2)

”Good heavens,” said he, going as red as if I had accused him of s.n.a.t.c.hing it from my lips. ”Then you must have both together, before you begin to tell me anything.”

”We might go out and have a sandwich somewhere,” I suggested.

”There's nothing the matter with the Waldorf sandwiches.”

”Except that they're expensive,” said I. ”You must remember you and I aren't millionaires.”

”I've been doing pretty well lately,” said he. ”I can almost call myself rich. Please have some lunch, I can afford it, and if you refuse I'll know it's because----”

I guessed what he might be going to say, so I stopped him.

”Nonsense!” I exclaimed. ”But I've run away from Mrs. Stuyvesant-Knox, and I don't want to be found. If she or her brother should have come to New York, or if anybody else----”

”I've thought of that,” said he, quickly, ”but we've no time to waste.

You're starving. If you wouldn't mind my getting you a private dining room, and sending you in some lunch----”

”But I want you to be with me,” I insisted.

He evidently hesitated, but only for a minute. I don't think he's the sort of man to hesitate long about anything.

”Very well, that's what I'd like best, of course, if you don't mind,”

said he. ”I'll go and see to everything, and be back before you can count sixty, if you do it slowly.”

I didn't do it at all, but thought how thankful I was that he had come to me, for I was sure everything would go right now.

In two or three minutes he came back to take me into a charming little dining room, where there was no danger that Mrs. Ess Kay or Potter could pounce upon us, as it was for Mr. Brett and me alone. I shuddered to think what it must be costing, but his clothes were so exceedingly good I hoped he hadn't exaggerated about the luck that had come to him.

Naturally I couldn't tell the part of my story which concerned Potter Parker; but I said that Mrs. Ess Kay wanted me to do things which I didn't think it right to do, and I couldn't stay in her house even a day longer.

”I should like to go home,” I went on, ”but I can't yet, and the only other thing is to join Miss Woodburn in Chicago. You remember Miss Woodburn, don't you?”

He said he remembered her very well, had read in the newspapers that she had left Newport for Chicago, and thought it was a wise idea of mine to join her.

”I'm glad you think that,” said I, ”for I want to start to-day; and I hope you'll tell me how to go, how much money it will be, how long it takes to get there, and all about it.”

He didn't answer for a minute, but sat looking very grave, staring at his brown hand on the white tablecloth, as if he'd never seen it before. Then he said:

”Curiously enough, I am going West this afternoon too. Would you object to my being in the same train? I wouldn't suggest such a thing, only you see as you're a stranger in the country, I might be able to help you a little.”

”How splendid!” I exclaimed. ”It seems almost too good to be true. You can't fancy what a relief it is to my mind.”

He looked pleased at that, and said I was very kind, though I should have thought it was the other way round.

”I'll get your ticket then,” he went on. ”If you'll give me twenty-five dollars--five pounds, you know--I'll hand you back the change; but I'm afraid it won't be much.”

”Change?” I echoed. ”Why, I supposed it would be ever so much more than five pounds to get to Chicago, which is almost in Central America, isn't it?”

”The people who live there think it's central,” said Mr. Brett. ”But they make the railroad men keep prices down, so that dissatisfied New Yorkers can afford to go and live there. It isn't a bad journey, you'll find. I think it will interest you. You sleep and eat in the train, you know.”