“Judy, do be careful, dear,” admonished Jane, “you almost knocked off the—‘prof’s’ glasses,” and Jane could not suppress a titter as her chum just escaped the student, her hand bag swinging with an unexpected lurch of the car. It was fun to roll through the aisle, for every step gave the sensation of a sea voyage on land. Only the big velour chairs stood between the travellers and damage to their fellow passengers. “What a roomy room!” commented Judith, entering the ladies’ dressing compartment. “And all to ourselves. I feel almost like dressing for dinner. Do you suppose, Janie, we will meet any interesting—persons at table? I have kept my rainbow georgette waist within call. Shall I don it?” “As to interesting persons, I expect to spend my time interviewing the specked professor,” Jane surprised Judith by declaring. “I feel he can impart information that may be very useful when I tackle my new year stuff. He looks wise enough to possess tabloid codes, and trots, that might put us through the most difficult forensics,” said Jane with characteristic deliberation. Of course the threat to take up with the queer looking young student (he was surely a student) was made to tease Judith, who wanted fun and frolic even aboard the Limited. “As you like,” replied Judith, surveying her tall form in its close-fitting blue velveteen. “But I think I shall find the little blonde lady quite talkable. I shall offer to exchange recipes for her shade of hair. I should love to try hers on Marian’s.” All of which was pure nonsense really, as neither girl had any idea of speaking to the strangers mentioned. “I am so glad we wore these gowns,” Jane remarked critically. “Most tourists seem to select the very dingiest, drabest, hatefullest old travelling togs, when it is bad enough to look well at the very best, under railroad conditions.” “Yes, that was your happy thought, _ma chère_. I should have worn the aforesaid hateful thing in tan, if I had not espied your lovely brown velveteen waiting to be donned. That led me to my one best, the blue.” They were all primped and freshened, and now inspecting the result in the long mirror, while the train rumbled and rolled over the hills and valleys leading into the Middle West. Their personally expressed satisfaction at the picture reflected was pardonable, for the two girls, the one light enough to all but blaze, the other dark enough to all but glitter, arms entwined and heads close together, filled the mirror frame with as pretty a study as any artist might wish to paint. Eventually, out in the car, as the tourists were making their way to the diner, many critical eyes, all of them surely approving, followed the two Wellington girls, Jane and her chum, Judith. CHAPTER VII—LOST—A GIRL