This amount for a two or three months' pleasure trip makes Lawrence open his eyes, and the lawyer gives a little deprecating shrug of the shoulders. "Oh, I don't mean to spend it _all_," cries Erma. "I am not so extravagant as that. Still, it might be convenient. I might want to buy something in the West. Please get it by to-morrow for me." "Not later, any way, than the day after," interjects Mrs. Livingston. "It is impossible to put off our trip." "Oh, it had all been decided before you saw me?" laughs Southmead. "Certainly. We didn't propose to have any objection made to our taking Erma with us on our trip," says Mrs. Livingston, leaving Mr. Ferdie and Miss Amory, and placing a plump arm round Miss Travenion's waist. The party have all now risen, apparently ready to leave, and Lawrence and Southmead are compelled to say "Good evening." As he departs, however, Harry astonishes Miss Travenion. She is a little in advance of her party, and offers him her hand cordially, saying, "Were we not in disorder on account of our preparations for departure, I should ask you to come and see me, Captain Lawrence." "As it is," answers the young man, "I hope to see you in the West." "Ah, you expect to be there?" "Yes; my headquarters must be in Salt Lake for the next month or two." "Why, _we_ shall be there also," cries Erma. "You shall show me over your city." "Excuse me, I am not a Mormon!" answers Lawrence grimly, biting the end of his moustache. "Oh, of course not! I--I beg your pardon. Yes; I remember now--that awful sect live there--" stammers Miss Travenion. "You'll forgive my ignorance, won't you?" Her eyes have a playful pleading in them that makes her judge very mild. "On one condition!" he answers eagerly: "that you surely come to Salt Lake." "Certainly," answers Miss Penitent; "it is there or in Ogden or somewhere about the Rocky Mountains I hope to meet my father." "I also hope to meet your father some day," replies Harry, in a tone that astonishes the girl, for her beautiful eyes have made him forget he has only met her ten minutes. She raises these to his inquiringly, and what she sees makes her cheeks grow red. A cordial grip upon her fingers is emphasizing this rapid gentleman's speech. Miss Travenion draws her hand hastily from his; then says with thoroughbred coldness and _hauteur_, "Perhaps. Good evening!" turns her pretty back upon him and begins to converse with Mrs. Livingston and her party as if no such being as Harry Storey Lawrence existed upon this earth. A moment after the Westerner finds himself beside Southmead strolling up Fifth Avenue, _en route_ for his hotel. "I'll go with you as far as the Fifth Avenue," remarks the lawyer. "There may be some telegrams awaiting you on your mining business."