James K.Mott, local chief attorney for the Consolidated, was struggling with a white tie before the glass and crumpling it atrociously.
"This dress-suit habit is the most pernicious I know.It's sapping the liberties of the American people," he grunted at last in humorous despair.
"Let me, dear."
His wife tied it with neatness and dispatch, and returned to the inspection of how her skirt hung.
"Mr.Harley asked me to thank you for calling on his wife.He says she gets lonesome during the day while he is away so much.I was wondering if you couldn't do something for her so that she could meet some of the ladies of Mesa.A luncheon, or something of that sort, you know.Have you seen my hat-brush anywhere?""It's on that drawer beside your hat-box.She told me she would rather not.I suggested it.But I'll tell you what I could do: take Virginia Balfour round to see her.She's lively and good company, and knows some of the people Mrs.Harley knows.""That's a good idea.I want Harley to know that we appreciate his suggestions, and are ready to do our part.He has shown a disposition to consult me on a good many things that ought to lie in Hobart's sphere rather than mine.Something's going to drop.Now, I like Hobart, but I want to show myself in a receptive mood for advancement when his head falls, as it certainly will soon."* * * * * * * Virginia responded eagerly to Mrs.Mott's suggestion that they call together on Mrs.Harley at the hotel.
"My dear, you have saved my life.I've been dying of curiosity, and I haven't been able to find vestige of an excuse to hang my call on.I couldn't ask Mr.Ridgway to introduce me, could I?""No, I don't see that you could," smiled Mrs.Mott, a motherly little woman with pleasant brown eyes."I suppose Mr.Ridgway isn't exactly on calling terms with Mr.Harley's wife, even if he did save her life.""Oh, Mr.Ridgway isn't the man to let a little thing like a war a outrance stand in the way of his social duties, especially when those duties happen to be inclinations, too.I understand he DID call the evening of their arrival here.""He didn't!" screamed Mrs.Mott, who happened to possess a voice of the normal national register."And what did Mr.Harley say?""Ah, that's what one would like to know.My informant deponeth not beyond the fact unadorned.One may guess there must have been undercurrents of embarrassment almost as pronounced as if the President were to invite his Ananias Club to a pink tea.I can imagine Mr.Harley saying: 'Try this cake, Mr.Ridgway; it isn't poisoned;' and Mr.Ridgway answering: 'Thanks! After you, my dear Gaston."'
Miss Balfour's anxiety to meet the young woman her fiance had rescued from the blizzard was not unnatural.Her curiosity was tinged with frank envy, though jealousy did not enter into it at all.Virginia had come West explicitly to take the country as she found it, and she had found it, unfortunately, no more hazardous than little old New York, though certainly a good deal more diverting to a young woman with democratic proclivities that still survived the energetic weeding her training had subjected them to.
She did not quite know what she had expected to find in Mesa.Certainly she knew that Indians were no longer on the map, and cowboys were kicking up their last dust before vanishing, but she had supposed that they had left compensations in their wake.On the principle that adventures are to the adventurous, her life should have been a whirl of hairbreadth escapes.
But what happened? She took all sorts of chances without anything coming of it.Her pirate fiance was the nearest approach to an adventure she had flushed, and this pink-and-white chit of a married schoolgirl had borrowed him for the most splendid bit of excitement that would happen in a hundred years.She had been spinning around the country in motor- cars for months without the sign of a blizzard, but the chit had hit one the first time.It wasn't fair.That was her blizzard by rights.In spirit, at least, she had "spoken for it," as she and her brother used to say when they werechildren of some coveted treasure not yet available.Virginia was quite sure that if she had seen Waring Ridgway at the inspired moment when he was plowing through the drifts with Mrs.Harley in his arms--only, of course, it would have been she instead of Mrs.Harley, and he would not have been carrying her so long as she could stand and take it--she would have fallen in love with him on the spot.And those two days in the cabin on half-ration they would have put an end forever to her doubts and to that vision of Lyndon Hobart that persisted in her mind.What luck glace' some people did have!
But Virginia discovered the chit to be rather a different personality than she had supposed.In truth, she lost her heart to her at once.She could have stood out against Aline's mere good looks and been the stiffer for them.She was no MAN, to be moved by the dark hair's dusky glory, the charm of soft girlish lines, the effect of shy unsophistication that might be merely the highest art of social experience.But back of the sweet, trembling mouth that seemed to be asking to be kissed, of the pathetic appeal for friendliness from the big, deep violet eyes, was a quality of soul not to be counterfeited.Miss Balfour had furbished up the distant hauteur of the society manner she had at times used effectively, but she found herself instead taking the beautiful, forlorn little creature in her arms.
"Oh, my dear; my dear, how glad I am that dreadful blizzard did not hurt you!"Aline clung to this gracious young queen as if she had known her a lifetime."You are so good to me everybody is.You know how Mr.Ridgway saved me.If it had not been for him I should have died.I didn't care--I wanted to die in peace, I think--but he wouldn't let me.""I should think not."
"If you only knew him--perhaps you do."
"A little," confessed Virginia, with a flash of merry eyes at Mrs.Mott."He is the bravest man--and the strongest.""Yes.He is both," agreed his betrothed, with pride.
