Part 36 (2/2)

Bailey smiled. ”Mrs. Banks said it was a good way to use up the lumber that was left over from the ranch house. And that bungalow certainly makes a great showing for the town. It raised the value of the adjoining lots. I sold three before the s.h.i.+ngles were on the walls, and the people who bought them thought they had a snap.”

”All the same, it is a lovely present,” said Madame Lucile.

”There's the train, whistling up the valley,” said the mayor, but he paused to ask, almost with diffidence, as he turned to the door: ”Say, what do you think of this tie?”

”I like it.” She nodded, with a rea.s.suring smile. ”And it's a nice shade for you; it brings out the blue in your eyes.”

The mayor laughed gaily. ”I ought to wear it steady after that, but I am coming to black ones with a frock coat and silk hat. I am going to begin to-morrow, when those German scientists, on their way home from the Orient, stop to see Hesperides Vale.”

”Oh, I hope you will wear this nice business suit, unless they come late in the afternoon. It seems more sensible here on the edge of the desert, and even if you are the first mayor to do it, I know, the world over, there isn't another as young.”

Bailey grew thoughtful. ”The mayor in Chicago always wore a Prince Albert.

Why, that long coat and silk hat stood for the office. They were the most important part of him. But good-by,” he said hastily, as the train whistled again, nearer, ”I'll call for you at seven.”

Ten minutes later, the mayor stood on the station platform shaking hands with Mrs. Weatherbee. ”Say, I am surprised,” he said. ”I often wondered what you thought of the vale. Lighter told me how you drove those colts through that day, and I was disappointed not to hear from you. You didn't let me know you had an investment already, and it never occurred to me, afterwards, that you were our Mrs. Weatherbee.”

Then, introductions being over, he a.s.sisted Miss Morganstein into the tonneau with the bridal couple and gave the seat in front to Mrs.

Weatherbee. He drove very slowly up the new thoroughfare, past the Bailey building, where she expressed her astonishment at the inviting window display of the millinery store. He explained that offices for the _Weatherbee Record_ had been reserved on the second floor, and that in the hall, in the third story, the first inaugural ball was to be given the following night. It had been postponed a few days until her arrival, and he hoped he might have the privilege of leading the grand march with her.

And, Mrs. Weatherbee having thanked him, with the pleasure dancing in her eyes, Bailey pointed out the new city hospital, a tall, airy structure, brave in fresh paint, which was equipped with a resident physician and three trained nurses, including Miss Purdy, the milliner's sister, who was on her way from Was.h.i.+ngton to join the force.

After that they motored through the residence district, and Mrs.

Weatherbee expressed greater wonder and delight at the rows of thrifty homes, each with its breadth of green lawn and budding shrubbery, where hardly six months ago had been unreclaimed acres of sage. And so, at last, they came to the city park, where the road wound smooth and firm between broad stretches of velvety green, broken by beds of blossoming tulips, nodding daffodils, clumps of landscape foliage putting forth new leaves.

Sprinklers, supplied by a limpid ca.n.a.l that followed the drive, played here, there, everywhere, and under all this moisture and the warm rays of the spring sun, the light soil teemed with awakening life. Then, finally, the car skirted a low, broad mound, in which was set the source of the viaduct, a basin of masonry, br.i.m.m.i.n.g with water crystal clear and fed by two streams that gushed from a pedestal of stone on the farther rim. ”How beautiful!” she exclaimed. ”How incredible! And there is to be a statue to complete it. A faun, a water nymph, some figure to symbolize the spirit of the place.”

”I can't tell you much about the statue,” replied Bailey, watching the curve ahead. ”Mr. Banks engaged the sculptor; some noted man in the east.

He is carrying the responsibility; it was his idea. But it was to have been in place, ready to be unveiled by the fifteenth, and there was some delay.”

After that, the mayor was silent, devoting his attention to the speeding car. They left the park and, taking the river road, arrived presently at the bungalow. The s.h.i.+ngles still lacked staining, the roof was incomplete, but a sprinkler threw rainbow mist over the new lawn, which was beginning to show shades of green. A creeper, planted at the corner of the veranda, already sent out pale, crinkled shoots.

Lucky Banks came beaming down the steps, and Annabel, in a crisp frock of royal blue taffeta, stood smiling a welcome as the automobile stopped.

Then Bailey, springing down to throw open the door of the tonneau, lifted his voice to say: ”And this--is the home of the Editor of the _Weatherbee Record_ and Mrs. Daniels.”

They did not at once grasp his meaning, and the prospector made it clear as they went up to the veranda. ”The house is a wedding present from Mrs.

Banks,” he said; ”and Mr. Bailey, here, put up the lot, so's I thought this would come in handy; it will take quite a bunch of furniture.”

There was a silent moment while Geraldine stood regarding the envelope he had put in her hand. She was looking her best in a trim, tailored suit of gray. There was a turquoise facing to the brim of her smart gray hat, but her only ornaments were a sorority pin fastened to the lapel of her coat and a gold b.u.t.ton that secured her watch in the small breast pocket made for it. At last she looked up, an unusual flush warmed her face, and she began: ”It's perfectly lovely of you--we are so surprised--we never can thank you enough.”

But Jimmie turned away. He stood looking down the valley in the direction of that place, not very far off, where his mother had carried water up the steep slope in the burning desert sun. His forehead creased; he closed his lips tight over a rising sob. Then Geraldine laid her hand on his arm. ”Do you understand what these people have done for us?” she asked unconventionally. ”Did you hear?”

Jimmie swung around. His glance met Annabel's. ”I can't explain how I feel about it,” he burst out, ”but I know if my mother could have been here now, it--this--would have paid her for all--she missed. I don't deserve it--but Geraldine does; and I pledge myself to stay by the _Weatherbee Record_ as long as you want me to. I don't see how I can help making good.”

Then Annabel, winking hard, hastily led the way over the house; and, presently, when the party returned to the table in the veranda, and the j.a.panese boy she had brought from the ranch house was successfully pa.s.sing the fried chicken, she wanted to know about the wedding.

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