2
"Mother," she remarked ten minutes later, "you must lie there in bed and watch me pack the trunks."
"Pack the trunks!"
"We're leaving this place to-morrow morning, at half-past seven."
"What are you talking about?"
"We're leaving. We're going."
"What do you mean?"
"What I say. I've just been downstairs and told the clerk."
"Have you lost your mind, Laurel?"
A faint smile drifted across Laurel's features, softened for a moment her firmly set jaw and chin.
"Oh, I'm sorry, mother! I'm ever so sorry."
"What's happened? What's the meaning of this?"
"Oh, I just don't like it here any more," shrugged Laurel. "I just can't stand it here any more."
Stella's eyes narrowed. She nodded her head, slowly up and down. "Humph! Sounds mighty like a quarrel with your young man to me."
"Oh, don't say 'my young man,' mother."
"There you go! Just like your father again! Criticizing my language every other minute! Well, then, Richard Grosvenor. Sounds mighty like a quarrel with Richard Grosvenor, to me."
"Mother," said Laurel, "I never want to see Richard Grosvenor again as long as I live!"
"I knew it! I knew it! Come, Laurel, don't be a little goose. Mercy, I never saw such a pepperbox! You can't fly out of a hotel like this, on a
