"I don't see how that was possible," suggests Lawrence. "I and my assistants figured all the cross-sectionings of that portion of the work, and I know that none were accredited to Ralph Travenion. Our largest contractors were Little & Co., Tranyon & Co., Amos Jennings, George H. Smith, and Brigham Young--nearly all Mormons." "You are sure?" says the young lady, knitting her brows as if in thought. "Certainly!" "This is very curious. Why, I have even had letters from him on Union Pacific paper." "Perhaps he was a silent partner in one of the companies," suggests Lawrence, who is very much astonished to find a girl in New York's most exclusive set, as Miss Travenion evidently is, connected so intimately with one of the builders of a railway in the Far West. "Perhaps you are right," says the young lady contemplatively. "However, I will know all about it myself in a few weeks." "He is coming to visit you, I presume?" "No, but I am going to take a trip to California with Mrs. Livingston and her party," remarks Erma, "and _en route_ I expect to meet him--my dear father, whom I haven't seen for half a year!" and the girl's eyes light up with sudden tenderness and pleasure. "_Apropos_ of the trip--excuse me." Here she rises suddenly and passes to the family lawyer. At his side she says: "Mr. Southmead, if you have finished your business with Mrs. Livingston, I have some for you. I want to inform you that Mrs. Livingston, her daughter Miss Louise, her son Mr. Chauncey, and myself, intend to take a trip to California, and to ask you, as my trustee, if you have any objection to the same. I presume that it is a mere form, as you are not my guardian." "You have written to your father?" asks Whitehouse hastily. "No," laughs the girl. "I intend it to be a surprise to papa." "Then, let me suggest," answers the lawyer, something of a shade passing over his brow, "that you write to Mr. Travenion first." "Impossible! We have not time! We leave in three days! Fancy--in a little over a week I shall see my father. You wouldn't deprive me of that pleasure, would you, Mr. Southmead?" "No! but I would suggest that you telegraph him." "I can't. I have not heard from papa for two weeks, and I do not know his address. Besides, it will be such a surprise!" Miss Travenion has thrown away contemplation from her, and is all brightness and gayety. "Of course I can have no objections," says Whitehouse. "Then you don't think it wise?" mutters the girl, with a pout. "I don't say that. I have no doubt it is all right, and I know your father will be pleased to see you." "I should think so! The idea of anything else! You know I am the apple of his eye!" "Yes, I know that," remarks Southmead decidedly. "Very well, then," returns Miss Travenion; "will you be kind enough to get me a letter of credit on California and the West for--for twenty thousand dollars."