"We shall go with you." I gave in at once--one always does with them--and inquired of the porter the location of the baggage room.

He looked somewhat fatigued as he replied: "It's away back there where we come from, boss." It was a long walk; in a garden, with no train to catch, it would have been delightful.
"Got your tickets ?" suggested the porter as we passed the row of grilled windows.

He had evidently concluded that I was irresponsible.
As I had them, we continued on our way, and presently achieved the baggage room, where they stood talking and laughing, telling me of the morning's shopping expedition--hat-hunting, they called it--in the rain.

I fancy that we might have been there yet had not a baggageman, perhaps divining that I had become a little bit distrait and that I had business to transact, rapped smartly on the iron counter with his punch and demanded: "Baggage checked ?" Turning, not without reluctance, from a pair of violet eyes and a pair of the most mysterious gray, I began to fumble in my pockets for the claim checks.
"How long shall you stay in Baltimore ?" asked the girl with the gray eyes.
"Yes, indeed!" I answered, still searching for the checks.
"That doesn't make sense," remarked the blue-eyed girl as I found the checks and handed them to the baggageman.

"She asked how long you'd stay in Baltimore, and you said: 'Yes, indeed.'" "About a week I meant to say." "Oh, I don't believe a week will be enough," said Gray-eyes.
"We can't stay longer," I declared.