"But we must do it honestly; there shall be no slipping away as though we were ashamed! I cannot understand how I could have done such a thing! Doesn't it seem strange that I should know now just what to do, when this morning I did not at all! And so, dear friend—you will be my friend always, will you not? And mother will never know how to thank you enough for what you have done for me to-night! If you will put me on the train in the morning, as you said, I will go directly home; no matter how many broken engines hinder." Mrs. Dunlap tried by all conceivable devices to induce her charge to get some sleep. She rang for a porter and made careful arrangements for the early train; planning the minutest details with a view to convincing the girl that she might be trusted. But there was no sleep to be had for either of them. Her charge was docile enough; she lay down obediently and closed her eyes; but she started at every sound, and imagined sounds that were not; frequently, after a few minutes of silence, she would break into eager explanations of some of Mr. Keller's movements, with a view to placing him in the best possible light. "What is his business?" Mrs. Dunlap asked; deciding, after fruitless effort that to humor the child's restlessness was perhaps the better way. "He is—I—don't know—!" The sentence began eagerly, then a pause, and the half bewildered conclusion. "He has to travel a great deal," she added; "belongs to a firm, you know; but I find that I do not know what the firm is; it seems strange that I never thought to ask him!" "Is his home in the West?" "Yes—no, he is there winters; summers he is East somewhere. I don't remember which city he calls 'home'; he is in New York a great deal. He really hasn't much home I presume; an unmarried man, whose parents are dead; it must be very dreary." "Poor innocent child!" was Mrs. Dunlap's mental comment. "She really knows no more about the man than I do; I'm afraid not so much! For all that she could prove, he might be an adventurer of the sort that is careful not to have a settled home." But all that she put into words was an earnest admonition to the girl to try to rest. For herself, she did not mean to sleep; every nerve was on the alert for a possible invasion. Who could be sure of what that defeated plotter might attempt? But the night passed without further incident and early morning found the two at the telegraph office, from which presently two messages sped on their way. One read: "Delayed by disabled engine. Coming on No. 2. All safe. Daisy." It had taken nearly half an hour to compose this message satisfactorily. The other read: "Must fail you for Wednesday. Will give you Thursday instead, if desired. Wire me at Winfield. Mary Dunlap."