In desperation he fell back upon hauteur; he managed to frown, and walked proudly.At that they laughed the more, Wallace Banks rudely pointing again and again at William; and not till the oncoming sufferer reached a spot within twenty feet of these delighted people did he grasp the significance of Wallace's repeated gesture of pointing.Even then he understood only when the gesture was supplemented by half-
articulate shouts:
``Behind you! Look BEHIND you!''
The stung youth turned.
There, directly behind him, he beheld an exclusive little procession consisting of two damsels in single file, the first soiled with house-moving, the second with apple sauce.
For greater caution they had removed their shoes; and each damsel, as she paraded, dangled from each far-extended hand a shoe.And both damsels, whether beneath apple sauce or dust smudge, were suffused with the rapture of a great mockery.
They were walking with their stummicks out o' joint.
At sight of William's face they squealed.They turned and ran.They got themselves out of sight.
Simultaneously, the air filled with solid thunder and the pompous train shook the ground.Ah, woe's the word! This was the thing that meant to bear away the golden girl and honeysuckle of the world--meant to, and would, not abating one iron second!
Now a porter had her hand-bag.
Dear Heaven! to be a porter--yes, a colored one! What of that, NOW? Just to be a simple porter, and journey with her to the far, strange pearl among cities whence she had come!
The gentle porter bowed her toward the steps of his car; but first she gave Flopit into the hands of May Parcher, for a moment, and whispered a word to Wallace Banks; then to Joe Bullitt;
then to Johnnie Watson;--then she ran to William.
She took his hand.
``Don't forget!'' she whispered.``Don't forget Lola!''
He stood stock-still.His face was blank, his hand limp.He said nothing.
She enfolded May Parcher, kissed her devotedly; then, with Flopit once more under her arm, she ran and jumped upon the steps just as the train began to move.She stood there, on the lowest step, slowly gliding away from them, and in her eyes there was a sparkle of tears, left, it may be, from her laughter at poor William's pageant with Jane and Rannie Kirsted--or, it may be, not.
She could not wave to her friends, in answer to their gestures of farewell, for her arms were too full of Flopit and roses and candy and sweet peas; but she kept nodding to them in a way that showed them how much she thanked them for being sorry she was going--and made it clear that she was sorry, too, and loved them all.
``Good-by!'' she meant.
Faster she glided; the engine passed from sight round a curve beyond a culvert, but for a moment longer they could see the little figure upon the steps--and, to the very last glimpse they had of her, the small, golden head was still nodding ``Good-by!'' Then those steps whereon she stood passed in their turn beneath the culvert, and they saw her no more.
Lola Pratt was gone!
Wet-eyed, her young hostess of the long summer turned away, and stumbled against William.
``Why, Willie Baxter!'' she cried, blinking at him.
The last car of the train had rounded the curve and disappeared, but William was still waving farewell--not with his handkerchief, but with a symmetrical, one-pound parcel, wrapped in white tissue-paper, girdled with blue ribbon.
``Never mind!'' said May Parcher.``Let's all walk Up-town together, and talk about her on the way, and we'll go by the express-office, and you can send your candy to her by express, Willie.''
