Sorely had she craved the stimulus which only the
companionship of congenial men can give. Of this fact, however, she had
been even less aware.
One crisp morning, seated in a diminutive wicker cart behind a
discontented pony, they searched out Chicken John's cabin on the mesa
behind the golf links.
"Not that it has anything to do with Indians," she apologized, "only I
want you to see him. He's such a character, so nice and untidy and
queer!"
As a result of this expedition they brought away with them what old John
designated a "plump little fry" to be served at the cosy table for two
in the sunniest window of the dining room, a luxury which Blair had
likewise confiscated in the interests of business.
And so for seven glorious days they tramped the fragrant hills, or
sailed a sea as softly blue as though fallen fresh that morning from the
cloudless heaven above. In the warmth and glow of his friendship the
starved heart of the little art teacher opened like some hot-house
flower carried suddenly into the wide outdoors. And when at last the
week drew to an end, their work, both his and hers, was still
unfinished, so that there was nothing else to do but to live on through
another fully as wonderful.
Blair himself took things much more for granted, and even when their
talk strayed farthest afield it was plain to the girl that his mind
never fully lost sight of the purpose for which he had come.
Pages:
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76