"What's the matter?" demanded the elevator operator, without turning
his head.
"John isn't here!" declared a hysterical feminine voice. "Oh, can't
you stop the car and go down and get him? He pushed me in, and I
thought he was right behind me. Aren't you going back?"
"Can't, Madam," was the calm answer. "Have to finish the trip. You
can go right back with the next load."
"Oh, goodness gracious," moaned the voice. "What'll I do? If I go
back I may miss him. If I wait at the top it will be half an hour.
Suppose he walks up? Maybe I'd better start to walk down to meet him."
Bobby stifled a giggle with difficulty.
"Bride and groom," she whispered to Betty. "Washington's full of
'em. Guess the poor groom was lost in the shuffle. Is she pretty--can
you see?"
Betty tried to look back in the car, though the press of passengers
standing all about her made it difficult. The bride was easily
identified because she was openly crying. She was an exceedingly
pretty girl, modishly gowned and apparently not more than twenty
years old.
"We'll get hold of her and persuade her to wait," planned Bobby.
"I'll show her the sights to amuse her while we're waiting for the
next elevator load to come up.
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