"Ohee, isn't this the jolliest? I'm going to pretend I'm a princess and----" But the small girl paused and listened. The head waiter was addressing Jane. "As guests of Mr. Bethel's," he told them, "you may select whatever you wish from the menu. Kindly write out your orders." He handed them each an order slip and a pencil and then went on to another table. Julie gave a little bounce of joy. The "_real_" was so wonderful, she would not have to pretend. She and Gerald bowed their heads over a typed menu; and then they began to scribble. Dan, glancing across at them, smiled good naturedly. "What are you doing, kiddies, copying the entire menu?" he asked. But Jane remarked rebukingly, "Julie Abbott, do you wish people to think that you have been starved at home? Tear those up at once. Here are two others. If you can't make them out properly, I'll do it for you." Dan saw a rebellious expression in Julie's eyes, so he suggested, "Let them try once more, Jane. They can't learn any younger. Just order a few things at first, Gerry, and then, if you are still hungry, you can have more." Such a jolly time as the children had! When the train turned sharply at a curve and the dishes slid about, Julie laughed outright. She purposely did not look at Jane. She could pretend her big sister was smiling easier, if she didn't see the frown. But their fun was just beginning. CHAPTER IX. TELEGRAMS Although the children were greatly interested in all they saw, nothing of an unusual nature had occurred, when, early one morning they reached Chicago. The kindly conductor directed them to the other train that would bear them to their destination, assuring them that on it, also, they would be guests of Mr. Bethel. The four young people were standing on the outer edge of the hurrying throng, gazing about them with interest (as several hours would elapse before the departure of the west-bound train), when Jane was sure that she heard their name being called through a megaphone. "It's that man in uniform over by the gates. He's calling 'Telegram for Jane Abbott!'" Gerald told her. "May I go get it, Dan? May I?" The older boy nodded and the younger pushed through the crowd, the others following more slowly. Very quickly Gerald returned, waving two yellow envelopes. One was a night letter from Marion Starr. Tearing it open, Jane read: "Dearest friend: As soon as I received your message I telephoned your father, knowing that he could explain much more than you could in ten words. What you are doing makes me love you more than I did before, if that is possible. My one wish is that I, too, might go West. I like mountains far better than I do fashionable summer resorts. Will write. Your Merry." The other telegram contained a short message, but Jane looked up with tears in her eyes as she said: "It is from father and just for me."