Standing beside him was a slender sort of girl in a green outfit, with very large brown eyes and a smile of amusement which was just a shade mischievous.

The driver turned upon his passenger a long and solemn accusation.
"Hollis Creek Inn ?" he asked sternly.
"Meadow Brook," returned the passenger, not at all abashed, and he smiled with all the cheeriness imaginable.
"Oh," said the driver, and there was a world of disapprobation in his tone, as well as a subtle intonation of contempt.

"You are not Mr.
Stevens of Boston." "No," confessed the passenger; "Mr.Turner of New York.

I judge that to be Mr.Stevens on the platform," and he grinned.
The driver, still declining to see any humor whatsoever in the situation, sourly ran back to the platform.

Jumping from his seat he opened the door of the tonneau, and waited with entirely artificial deference for Mr.Turner of New York to alight.