Part 22 (1/2)

”We could give you a closet like that which you could lock up, and a mirror,” she suggested, with the faintest trace of a smile.

”Tell your father, Miss Marsh,” said the president, with dignified politeness, ”that while we cannot submit to any change, we fully appreciate his business foresight, and are quite prepared to see that the hotel is properly compensated for our retaining these rooms.” As the young girl withdrew with a puzzled curtsy he closed the door, placed his back against it, and said,--

”What the deuce did she mean by speaking of that closet?”

”Reckon she allowed we kept some fancy drinks in there,” said Trigg; ”and calkilated that we wanted the marble stand and mirror to put our gla.s.ses on and make it look like a swell private bar, that's all!”

”Humph,” said the president.

Their next meeting, however, was a hurried one, and as the president arrived late, when the door closed smartly behind him he was met by the worried faces of his colleagues.

”Here's a go!” said Trigg excitedly, producing a folded paper. ”The game's up, the hull show is busted; that cussed old statue--the reg'lar old hag herself--is on her way here! There's a bill o' lading and the express company's letter, and she'll be trundled down here by express at any moment.”

”Well?” said the president quietly.

”Well!” replied the members aghast. ”Do you know what that means?”

”That we must rig her up in the hall on a pedestal, as we reckoned to do,” returned the president coolly.

”But you don't sabe,” said Clinton Grey; ”that's all very well as to the hag, but now we must give HER up,” with an adoring glance towards the closet.

”Does the letter say so?”

”No,” said Trigg hesitatingly, ”no! But I reckon we can't keep BOTH.”

”Why not?” said the president imperturbably, ”if we paid for 'em?”

As the men only stared in reply he condescended to explain.

”Look here! I calculated all these risks after our last meeting. While you boys were just fussin' round, doin' nothing, I wrote to the express company that a box of women's damaged duds had arrived here, while we were looking for our statue; that you chaps were so riled at bein'

sold by them that you dumped the whole blamed thing in the creek. But I added, if they'd let me know what the damage was, I'd send 'em a draft to cover it. After a spell of waitin' they said they'd call it square for two hundred dollars, considering our disappointment. And I sent the draft. That's spurred them up to get over our statue, I reckon. And, now that it's coming, it will set us right with the boys.”

”And SHE,” said Clinton Grey again, pointing to the locked chest, ”belongs to us?”

”Until we can find some lady guest that will take her with the rooms,”

returned the president, a little cynically.

But the arrival of the real statue and its erection in the hotel vestibule created a new sensation. The members of the Excelsior Company were loud in its praises except the executive committee, whose coolness was looked upon by the others as an affectation of superiority. It awakened the criticism and jealousy of the nearest town.

”We hear,” said the ”Red Dog Advertiser,” ”that the long-promised statue has been put up in that high-toned Hash Dispensary they call a hotel at Excelsior. It represents an emaciated squaw in a scanty blanket gathering roots, and carrying a bit of thorn-bush kindlings behind her.

The high-toned, close corporation of Excelsior may consider this a fair allegory of California; WE should say it looks mighty like a prophetic forecast of a hard winter on Sycamore Creek and scarcity of provisions.

However, it isn't our funeral, though it's rather depressing to the casual visitor on his way to dinner. For a long time this work of art was missing and supposed to be lost, but by being sternly and persistently rejected at every express office on the route, it was at last taken in at Excelsior.”

There was some criticism nearer home.

”What do you think of it, Miss Marsh?” said the president politely to that active young secretary, as he stood before it in the hall. The young woman adjusted her eye-gla.s.ses over her aquiline nose.

”As an idea or a woman, sir?”