Wonder if eating is on this
schedule. I'd have laid in something besides a chop and a roll this
morning at breakfast if I'd known what was ahead."
The Lenox Station was easily reached on time. The hands of the big clock
were only at one minute past eight when Cyrus entered. At the designated
spot the messenger met him. Cyrus recognized the man as a porter on one
of the trains of the road of which his grandfather and father were
officers. Why, yes, he was the porter of the Woodbridge special car! He
brought the boy a card which ran thus:
Give porter the letter from Norwalk Building, the card
received at restaurant, the matinee coupon, yesterday
evening's _Sentinel_, and the envelope received at
Kingston Heights. C. W., Jr.
Cyrus silently delivered up these articles, feeling a sense of
thankfulness that not one was missing. The porter went away with them,
but was back in three minutes.
"This way, sir," he said, and Cyrus followed, his heart beating fast.
Down the track he recognized the "Fleetwing," President Woodbridge's
private car.
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