“Oh, but the early train isn’t necessary. The train that connects with the Boston Pullman at the Junction, sixty miles below here, doesn’t leave until evening.”

That didn’t matter to Laurel. If she and her mother preferred leaving on the early train, they could do so, couldn’t they, and pick up the Pullman, when it came through the Junction at night?

“Why, of course—but it would be very foolish—nobody ever does it.”

“We’re going to,” Laurel announced.

2

“MOTHER,” SHE REMARKED ten minutes later, “you must lie there in bed and watch me pack the trunks.”

“Pack the trunks!”

“We’re leaving this place tomorrow morning, at half-past seven.”

“What are you talking about?”

“We’re leaving. We’re going.”

“What do you mean?”

“What I say. I’ve just been downstairs and told the clerk.”

“Have you lost your mind, Laurel?”

A faint smile drifted across Laurel’s features, softened for a moment her firmly set jaw and chin.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Mother! I’m ever so sorry.”

“What’s happened? What’s the meaning of this?”

“Oh, I just don’t like it here any more,” shrugged Laurel. “I just can’t stand it here any more.”

Stella’s eyes narrowed. She nodded her head, slowly up and down. “Humph! Sounds mighty like a quarrel with your young man to me.”

“Oh, don’t say ‘my young man,’ Mother.”

“There you go! Just like Father again! Criticizing my language every other minute! Well, then, Richard Grosvenor. Sounds mighty like a quarrel with Richard Grosvenor, to me.”

“Mother,” said Laurel, “I never want to see Richard Grosvenor again as long as I live!”

“I knew it! I knew it! Come, Laurel, don’t be a little goose. Mercy, I never saw such a pepper-box! You can’t fly out of a hotel like this, on a moment’s notice, just because of a little lover’s quarrel. Heavens alive! You come to bed and sleep on it. You’ll feel entirely different in the morning. So will he. Gracious! I know how those things work. Quarrels make the heart grow fonder. There’s a saying something like that. You come to bed, Laurel.”

“Not till the packing is finished,” said Laurel.

She turned her back upon Stella, crossed the room to the bureau, pulled out a lower drawer, and removed a pile of underclothes.

“You don’t mean to say you’re going to pack up and clear out of the only place we ever even had a ‘look-in’ at?”

“Yes, Mother.”

“Where do you think we’re going to at this late date?”

“Why, back to the apartment.”

“Back to the apartment in July!”

“Yes, Mother.”

“Do you mean to say, Laurel, you’re thinking of putting me in a train in the condition I’m in?”

“I stopped and asked the doctor. He said it wouldn’t hurt you to travel, he thought.”