Buck had answered; O'Malley, whose order meant thousands. He was on his way to New York, of course. 

 In that moment Mrs. T. A. Buck faded into the background and Emma McChesney rose up in her place. She snatched hat and coat and furs, put them on as she went down the long aisle, swung down the car steps, and flew down the platform to the unconscious O'Malley. He was smoking, all unconscious. The Fates had delivered him into her expert hands. She knew those kindly sisters of old, and she was the last to refuse their largesse. 

 "Mr. O'Malley!" 

 He wheeled. 

 "Mrs. McChesney!"  He had just a charming trace of a brogue. His enemies said he assumed it.  "Well, who was I thinkin' of but you a minute ago. What——" 

 "I'm on my way to Chicago. Saw you from the car window. You're on the New York train? I thought so. Tell me, you're surely seeing our man, aren't you?" 

 O'Malley's smiling face clouded. He was a temperamental Irishman—Ted O'Malley—with ideas on the deference due him and his great house. 

 "I'll tell you the truth, Mrs. McChesney.  I had a letter from your Mr. Buck. It wasn't much of a letter to a man like me, representing a house like Gage & Fosdick. It said both heads of the firm would be out of town, and would I see the manager. Me—see the manager! Well, thinks I, if that's how important they think my order, then they'll not get it—that's all. I've never yet——" 

 "Dear Mr. O'Malley, please don't be offended. As a McChesney to an O'Malley, I want to tell you that I've just been married." 

 "Married! God bless me—to——" 

 "To T. A. Buck, of course. He's on that train.  He——" 

 She turned toward the train. And as she turned it began to move, ever so gently. At the same moment there sped toward her, with unbelievable swiftness, the figure of Sam the porter, his eyes all whites. By one arm he grasped her, and half carried, half jerked her to the steps of the moving train, swung her up to the steps like a bundle of rags, caught the rail by a miracle, and stood, grinning and triumphant, gazing down at the panting O'Malley, who was running alongside the train. 

 "Back in a week. Will you wait for us in New York?" called Emma, her breath coming fast. She was 

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