Mrs. Marshall kissed her good-bye gently, not smiling at Sylvia's
attempt to lighten the moment's seriousness by saying playfully,
"Now, Mother, don't you be such an old worrier!" But she said nothing
"uncomfortable," for which Sylvia was very grateful.
She had no sooner embarked upon the big Interurban trolley-car which
was to take her to Mercerton than her attention was wholly diverted
from uneasy reflections by the unexpected appearance of two of the
house-party guests. Eleanor Hubert, every detail of her Complicated
costume exquisitely finished as a Meissonier painting, sat looking out
of the window rather soberly, and so intently that she saw neither
Sylvia's entrance, nor, close upon her heels, that of a florid-faced,
rather heavily built young man with a large, closely shaven jaw, who
exclaimed joyfully at seeing Miss Marshall, and appropriated with
ready assurance the other half of her seat.
"Now, this is surely dandy! You're going to the house-party too,
of course!" he cried, unbuttoning and throwing back his bright tan
overcoat. "Here's where I cut Jerry out all right, all right! Wait
a minute! _How_ much time have we?" He appealed to the conductor
as though a matter of life and death depended on the answer. "Four
minutes?--here goes--" He sprang to his feet, dashed out of the car
and disappeared, leaving his coat beside Sylvia. It was evidently
quite new, of the finest material, with various cunningly stitched
seams and straps disposed upon its surface in a very knowing way.
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