Then he continues rapidly, "Excuse me a second. Your maid does not appear to know what to do." And he assists the French abigail to alight with as much care, if perhaps not as much ceremony, as he did the mistress. "Yes," replies Erma. "We travelled by a private car as far as Omaha, and, of course, had our meals on board of it. Therefore, Marie was rather disconcerted--as, to tell the truth, so was I." "Ah, then, you _do_ need my assistance, if you want a meal," says Harry quickly, for the gong is sounding very wildly outside the eating-house, and the throng from the long train of cars is moving bodily upon it. Noting this, the young man cries shortly: "Indecision means hunger--at all events, the leavings. Come with me!" Then, perceiving that Erma is hesitating and looking towards the car from which Ferdie and Louise are just appearing, and which still conceals Mrs. Livingston and her son, he says hurriedly: "Quick; I'll reserve a table for your party and get them a first chance at the meal. Come at once if you want your supper!" "Of course I want my supper," cries Miss Travenion with a laugh; for the brisk Nebraska air, which is quite often cool toward evening, in October, has stimulated the young lady's appetite, which, like that of most healthy girls of her age, is generally a good one. So the young lady, placing her hand upon his arm and followed by her maid, turns away from the crowd and is led to a side door, Lawrence seeming to know the by-ways of the hotel pretty well. In front of this are lounging the station master and two or three railroad employees. These spring up with ejaculations of welcome and delight! One cries, "God bless you, Cap!" and another, "Harry, you're doing well." A third guffaws _sotto voce_, "You bet he is." Returning their salutes, he says shortly, "Please let me in at the side door--before the rush. This young lady is hungry." A moment after they are in the dining-room of the railroad hotel before the crowd of passengers have entered by the main portal. This is a large apartment filled with tables, each of which will accommodate six people, and each presided over and waited upon by a brisk moving, calico-clothed Nebraska maiden. A moment after, Erma's escort says to a bright-eyed prairie-girl who is flourishing a feather duster to keep the flies off an as yet unoccupied table: "Sally, reserve this table for myself and party." Then to Miss Travenion's astonishment the maid answers, giving him a look of open-eyed admiration, "Yes, Cap!"