Carroll Watson Rankin

“ When the fortunate but unappreciative traveler who had been sitting directly opposite the young woman arose to leave the train, Emsleigh promptly took possession of the vacated seat.
“Gad! What an all-around pretty girl!” said Emsleigh, gazing stealthily over the top of his paper. “She makes me think of apple-blossoms, new-mown hay and all that sort of thing. There's no reason why I shouldn't spend my vacation in her town, wherever that town may be. I'd like to know that girl—she's as sweet as a garden of roses.” ”

“ When, nearly two hours later, the girl prepared to leave the train at a small place with a population of perhaps five thousand inhabitants, Emsleigh expeditiously gathered up his belongings and followed her from the coach. Preserving a discreet distance between them, he kept the apple-blossom-like girl in sight until, on the doorstep of a white cottage, she was swallowed up in the motherly embrace of a comfortable, elderly woman, who had apparently been anxiously awaiting her coming. ”

“ Emsleigh, with all kinds of railroad passes in his pocket and a month's vacation before him, boarded the train. The vacation had literally been thrust upon him by the sudden altering of Wendall's plans; and office-worn Emsleigh, with no definite destination in view, was setting forth in a delightfully haphazard manner.
“Where shall you go?” Wendall had asked.
“Oh, any old place as long as it's out of the city. I have no relatives, you know. When I'm tired of riding, I'll just get off wherever it looks most inviting—wherever the grass is greenest. ”