said Miss Kinzey, with a look of admiration. This was the kind of man she understood and appreciated.
“ ’Tisn’t bad,” said Milsom, modestly. “Now, anyone but me would have lost thirty hours and spent a week working out the run, instead of handing him over to the Santa Fe straight through to Chicago.”
“But see here, about that Noo York Limited . Chauncey Depew himself couldn’t hitch his car to her ,” Miss Kinzey suggested, recovering herself.
“Yes, but this isn’t Chauncey. It’s Cheyne—lightning. It goes.”
“Even so. Guess we’d better wire the boy. You’ve forgotten that, anyhow.”
“I’ll ask.”
When he returned with the father’s message bidding Harvey meet them in Boston at an appointed hour, he found Miss Kinzey laughing over the keys. Then Milsom laughed too, for the frantic clicks