CHAPTER IV.ON WITH THE PANORAMA.

“Whowas the old codger with whom you were shaking hands, Shirley, as I came up?” Dick inquired, as once more he went through the process of settling everybody’s baggage and settled himself, too, down on a Pullman seat by Shirley.

“His name was Mr. Scott,” said Shirley demurely. At last she had one name of some one who knew her double. “I would not say that he is very old, and I’m sure that ‘codger’ does not describe him.”

“Why didn’t he shake hands with Mother first?”

“He probably did not recognize her.”

“How did you happen to know him?”

“I did not know him.” Shirley was enjoying this.

“Then why on earth would you shake hands with him?”

“Because I thought that he might be some graduate or even an important trustee that knew Fatherand remembered me, though you might think that I am flattering myself.”

“And he turned out not to be a trustee or anybody?”

“He was somebody, all right. He said that he supposed I had gone with my father and that I was looking better than I did right after school was out, and that Mrs. Scott and the girls had gone on up into Wisconsin ‘you know.’”

Dick threw his head back and laughed. “I saw him give a quick look back when he saw me going toward you, Shirley. He stopped a moment, almost as if he intended to come back; then he took out his watch and shot out of the door.”

“He was going to the bank,” said Shirley. “Oh, I know Mr. Scott very well indeed!”

“It is a good thing that we are leaving Chicago. Have you told Mother?”

“No; I’d forget to do it, and we have been doing such interesting things that it has not seemed very important. It’s rather mildly interesting, though, to know that some girl, probably of a well-known and wealthy Chicago family, looks enough like me to have me taken for her in broad daylight, at least by persons in a hurry, or by clerks that do not know her any too well. Perhaps I’ll write to Mr. Scott and ask him what her name is.”

“How would you address him, my dear cousin?”

“Yes. That would be a difficulty. ‘Mr. Scott, Chicago, Illinois,’ might be a bit indefinite.”

“Well, I’ll say for you, Shirley, that you look like a million dollars in that new rig of yours. You probably look so much more stunning than the original that they have to stop to speak to you.”

“Nowyouare a cousin worth having, Dick. Thanks awfully. Next year,—no, I can’t—the year after, when you are a senior, I’ll have all the girls that you like best in for teas and things and invite you over. Maybe the senior girls wouldn’t come to a party given by little me, though.”

“They’d be delighted to be asked to the professor’s house, even with you out of the question, which I should not admit. Moreover, my dear Shirley, how do you know that by that time a senior girl would be interesting? Now the reverend seniors are often known to have the most serious cases of their college career with sophomores, or even freshmen girls.”

“That is so. Good. I’ll know all the freshmen girls, perhaps, and I know some of the sophomore girls as it is. Just pick out one that Aunt Anne will welcome into the family!”

“That remains to be seen, Shirley. Now, look here. Let’s plan what we do when we get to Denver.”Dick pulled from his pocket one of the illustrated advertisements, published by the railroad companies. Everything else was soon forgotten in studying Colorado and its possibilities.

From that time on there was one delightful panorama of prairie, irrigating ditches, rivers, mountains, with rides among the foothills and climbs to the heights; of new birds and flowers and trees; of unafraid wild animals in the national parks; of snowy summits; of glaciers in Glacier Park and sure-footed horses on narrow trails. Shirley was not afraid to go into quiet raptures over dashing mountain streams, all the scenes so new and inspiring to her, and each new expedition. Mrs. Lytton declared that it was “as stimulating as a cup of coffee” to meet Shirley’s eagerness every morning.

“Never having had a daughter, Shirley, I did not know what I had missed, till this trip. Dick could not be spared, but I wish that we could adopt you.”

“I never made a good girl, did I?” queried Dick.

“You are a fine son,” said his mother, “and that is enough for me.”

Shirley was glad of that little speech of compliment from her cousin Molly. Thoroughly appreciating the privilege of this trip with them, she had tried in every way to make her cousins glad thatshe had come. There were many little ways in which she could be of service, and when they were out together, as they sometimes were without the gentlemen, they were as jolly as two girls. Mrs. Lytton was active and strong, taking part in all the rides upon the narrow trails as bravely as any of them.

One delightful experience followed another. They grew weary at times, to be sure, and there were some narrowly averted accidents, but no calamity occurred to mar their trip. When it was wise to let time intervene between undertakings, they merely tarried a little longer in some camp or hotel until they felt like resuming the onward way. They met many friendly people at different places and with the informality of American tourists, they joined forces for some trip, or discussed frankly the problems of a common country. There was one group of girls, traveling with two chaperons, who were attracted to Shirley. Their companionship made the trip through the Yellowstone lively, for they often found themselves upon the same ’bus. Dick, too, attached a young man of about his own age, a student in a different university.

But it was not until they had reached a hotel in the big and wonderful state of Washington that Shirley saw her double.

It happened in one of the corridors on the second floor about noon. The Lyttons and Shirley were leaving that night. Shirley had just been downstairs to the lobby, and as there was but one easy flight of stairs with a landing midway, Shirley did not take the elevator, but ran up the stairs instead.

Between the stairway and her room were the doors to the elevator, and as she turned from the last stair down the corridor in the direction of her room, she saw herself, apparently, standing in front of the elevator door. Even the hat was of the same color as her own, and a little fluff of golden hair curled around near the place where ears were supposed to be. The coat was not like her own, however.

The young girl was laughing and talking in an animated fashion to two girls who were with her. She faced Shirley, and Shirley, now surprised and interested, took an eager step toward her. But it was quite evident that the other girl had not seen Shirley. The elevator doors slid open just then; thethreegirls stepped in and were out of sight in a moment.

More mechanically than otherwise, Shirley went on toward the room with something that she was bringing Mrs. Lytton. “Why, Cousin Molly, I’ve just seen my double. It’s the queerest thing. Ididn’t suppose that two people of different familiescouldlook so much alike. Oh, I haven’t told you a word about how in Chicago people kept taking me for some one.” Shirley paused, rather dazed by the experience.

Mrs. Lytton looked at her rather soberly, Shirley thought. “I wonder who it could be. Why don’t you try to find out who she is? Has she a room on this floor?”

“How stupid I am, Cousin Molly! Here I stand! Itwouldbe rather interesting to know who she is, perhaps.”

Shirley flew out of the room and down the stairs. But there was no sign of the girls in the lobby. She even went to the desk and asked rather hesitatingly if the clerk had seen any one who looked like herself pass just now.

The clerk to whom she addressed the question looked at her closely. “Yes,” he said. “A young lady enough like you to be your twin came to the desk for a moment with another young lady, who left her key. Let me see. The young lady’s name was Penn, Miss Penn. She and her mother just checked out, but she came back to get something which she had forgotten or thought that she had forgotten she said. From what was said I took it that they were going to some other hotel in the city,here. If they are friends of yours, or relatives, I may be able to trace them for you.” The clerk, as he talked, noted Shirley’s hesitation. He came to the correct conclusion that she did not know the young lady who looked so much like her. Odd, he thought.

“Thank you,” said Shirley. “I will ask my cousin if it is best to find them. We are leaving in a few hours ourselves.”

But Mrs. Lytton did not think that it would be worth while to try to find the girls. “It would only be a matter of curiosity, perhaps, and neither of you would care for acquaintance, since you say that it has not made a pleasant impression to find yourself taken for some one else. And if the girl should be some distant relative, my experience is that unless there is something in common, looking up one’s relatives is not very satisfactory,—though interesting, of course, and kinship does make a bond, unless too distant. If you really want to do it, Shirley, we can remain another day. I will let you decide the matter. We might get into touch by this evening, I’ve no doubt, and perhaps you would feel better satisfied.”

“If you leave it to me, Cousin Molly, I’ll say to go right on with our trip. For a moment, I felt like going right up to the girl and saying, ‘Lookin the mirror, please,’ just for fun. But my curiosity has all oozed out and my natural timidity, Dick, has come to the fore.”

Dick Lytton, who was present at the discussion, laughed and asked Shirley again if she had told his mother all the details.

“Most of them Dick. I’ll give her the whole story while we pack up. Now let me fold up your frocks, Cousin Molly. You know you like the way I do it. Is it too soon to pack them?”

“No. Better have it done before we go out. Where did you say you were going to take us, Dick? Oh, yes. We get another and better view of the old Pacific, Shirley. Go and find your father, please, Dick.”

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