340
A Daughter of the Rich
The flies continued to buzz on the smoke-thickened panes. The train for Barton's River steamed in from the siding. The couple in the waiting-room boarded it. The porter watched them with a queer smile. Then he took up the plate of uneaten doughnuts and the cup of cooled coffee, and handed them to the girl behind the counter.
"She ain't eat em, after all," she said. "She acted kinder queer for a Red Cross nurse."
"He's the chap I give the telegram to when he got here on the up-train last night."
"What was it?"
"Twenty-five cent one from Barton's River—'M. A. starts for Cuba Thursday stop her at Junction.'"
The girl laughed, and the restaurant filled again.
