"It looks more like a prison than a home," Billie exclaimed. "Does he keep his pretty Evelyn locked up there all winter?"
"I'm afraid so," said Daniel ruefully. "She hasn't had much liberty since she met me, anyhow. He's an infernal old----"
Daniel broke off in the middle of a sentence, for the front door of the Stone house had opened, and there on the threshold, like a dragon at the castle gate, stood John James Stone. He could never be said to glance casually at anything, but his sharp eyes only rested for a moment on the passing motor car, and he turned on his heel and entered the house.
"The old fox is never away, you see," ejaculated Daniel Moore.
But they soon approached an immense, splendid hotel, and the thought of hot baths and clean clothes was sweeter to the weary ladies at that moment than the most idyllic romance ever conceived.
It was to this hotel that Daniel Moore's luggage had been checked, and there he found and redeemed it with the check the late train robber had considerately returned to him.
"You won't see us again until seven o'clock to-night, Mr. Moore," Miss Campbell had said. "And then you may not know us, we shall be so transformed with soap and water."
"I may have news for you by then," he said, as they separated at the elevator.
And that was the last they were to see of Daniel Moore for many a day to come.
"I suppose butterflies feel about as we do," observed Nancy that evening as they filed down to dinner.
"Meaning when they cease to be worms and appear clothed in fine raiment," asked Billie.
"Not so very fine," answered Nancy, fingering a streamer of her pink sash with a tender touch, as she glanced complaisantly down at her lingerie frock.
"Little butterfly," she said, "is there anything; you like better than pretty clothes?"
"There is just this minute," she answered. "Dinner with waiters and soup and mayonnaise and strawberry ice cream."
They exchanged happy smiles over Nancy's inconsequential menu.
After a month's Gypsying, it was good to be civilized for a few days before the thirst for wandering came over them again, and they must push on toward California.
Daniel Moore was not at the appointed meeting-place, in one of the small sitting rooms. They waited impatiently for him for a quarter of an hour, and finally left word at the desk that he would find them in the dining room. There, in the interest of dinner and of the occupants of other tables, their recent fellow traveler completely passed from their minds.