Here Lawrence suggests that Erma send a telegram to Mrs. Livingston, and dissipate any fears her chaperon may have for her safety. So, going into the telegraph office, she hastily writes the following: "TO MRS. LIVINGSTON, "On train bound for Salt Lake City: "Detained by Ferdie. We are both well, and will follow on first train in the morning. Please tell papa,--who will meet you at the depot. "ERMA TRAVENION." This being despatched, she comes out and stands by Lawrence, and watches the Central Pacific train, with its yellow silver palace sleeping cars, that is just about to run for the West and California, and laughs: "In two weeks I will be once more on my way to the Golden Land." "So soon!" says the young man, a sigh in his voice. "Oh," says the girl, airily; "by that time I shall have seen papa, and we have to do California and get back to New York for the first Patriarch's Ball." Then she babbles, "Oh, the delights of New York society. You must come on next winter and see how gay our city is, Captain Lawrence, to a young lady who--who isn't _always_ a wall flower." "That I will," answers Harry, heartily. A moment after, he goes on more considerately, "If I can arrange my mining business,"--this last by no means so confidently spoken. As he says this, the train dashes off on its way to the Pacific, and Ferdie coming out of the hotel, where he has been generally put in order, the three, accompanied by the maid, go in to dinner. The mentor of the party registers their names, and tells the proprietor, who seems to know him very well, to give Miss Travenion the best rooms in the house. At this, the young lady says, "Excuse me for a few minutes. I have clothes with me now." And despite Lawrence's laughing protestations that no change can be for the better, she runs up-stairs, and a few minutes after returns, having got the dust of travel from her in some marvellous way, and appearing in a new toilet--one of those half dress, half every day affairs, something with lace on it and ribbons, which makes her beauty fresh as that of a new-blown rosebud. Their dinner is a merry meal; Miss Travenion coming out afterwards on the platform, and watching out-going freight trains and switching locomotives, as the two gentlemen smoke. Then the moon comes up over the giant mountains that wall in this Ogden Valley, save where it opens on the Great Salt Lake, and shadows fall on the distant gorges and canyons. Illumined by the soft light, the girl looks radiantly lovely and piquantly happy, for somehow this evening seems to her a pleasant one.