Late that afternoon John Marvin and Bill Jones came out of the Reno
court-house together and sauntered down the street. There was a gleam of
triumph in Marvin's eyes and a deep satisfaction in his manner.
Lightnin's grin was equally expressive.
"You better come right back to Calivada with me, John!" he urged.
The triumph left Marvin's eyes and was replaced by a troubled
expression.
"No, Bill," he said, quietly, "I don't think it is time for me to go
there yet. Mother and Millie may still feel that my part in the whole
scheme was not as kindly as it might have been, so I'll just drive over
to my cabin and maybe later, perhaps to-morrow morning, come over and
join you for a visit of an hour or two. It's a long time, old chap," he
said, as he patted Bill on the shoulder, "since you have been home, and
I think it is about time you were running along."
Bill knew what was deterring him. Tactfully he said nothing, but smiled.
They walked along in silence for a block or two, until in a jeweler's
window Bill saw something that appealed to his imagination. He put his
hand in his pocket and withdrew it before it touched bottom, realizing
that his last dime had gone for a cup of coffee for himself and Zeb at a
lunch-counter early that morning. Zeb was waiting for him at the G. A.
R. Hall up the street a ways, but he had a duty to perform and it
seemed to him that that duty could best be done by the help of the
object in the jeweler's window.
"John, will you lend me two dollars?" he asked.
"At your old tricks, Lightnin'? You bet I can lend you two dollars! You
sure that's all you want?" Marvin laughed, taking the money from his
pocket.
"Plenty," was Bill's brief reply, pocketing the two dollars. They walked
to the corner of the street, where they said good-by to each other.
When Bill was satisfied that Marvin's back was well turned he sauntered
into the jewelry-shop and up to the counter, where he purchased a
sterling-silver ring, washed in gold, with a bright, shining piece of
glass set in it.
The clerk in the store smiled at the old man as he pocketed the
monstrosity and went happily out of the store.
How to get to Calivada from Reno had not entered his mind. It was a good
seventy-five miles, but he knew that some way or other he would get
home that night. With his mind made up to that issue, he wandered up the
street and joined Zeb, who had been waiting for him all afternoon. The
two old men, arm in arm, stood on the street corner and looked about.
And just then Rodney Harper and his wife, who were interested spectators
in the court-room during the afternoon trial, turned the corner in their
machine and stopped to say a good word to Bill.
"What you going to do, Lightnin'?" asked Harper, while his wife beamed
at the two odd old souls.
"What _you_ going to do?" was Bill's evasive answer.
"Why, we are motoring back to Calivada, where we have a room at the
hotel," said Mrs. Harper.
"Well, then, I guess," said Bill, putting his foot on the step of the
automobile, "that's just what me and Zeb is goin' to do."
The Harpers laughed and looked at each other. They were both agreed.
Bill and Zeb climbed in and made a strange couple on the back seat of
the car as it whirled through the streets of Reno and on up into the
hills.
In the mean time the hotel at Calivada, true to its nature, was the
scene of a new sensation.
After court that afternoon Margaret Davis and Judge Townsend, leaving
Mrs. Jones and Millie to take the train home, went their own way. About
eight o'clock that evening they arrived at the hotel, going to the desk
where the sleek and dapper new clerk awaited them and came forward to
welcome them. "Hello, Mrs. Davis!" he said, extending his hand.
"Good evening," Margaret replied, giggling and looking coyly back at the
judge. "Will you give me my key, Mr. Peters?" she asked.
"Sure," he said, taking the key from the rack and handing it to her with
a smirk.
"I didn't expect you back to-night." He smiled.
"Well, I wasn't expecting it myself." The annoyance evidenced by the
frown on Lemuel Townsend's face immediately changed her tone. With a
"Thank you" she turned to go, but the clerk had other plans.
"This has been a wonderful day, Mrs. Davis," he said, as he cast
languishing glances at her. Townsend was not at all pleased with the
attention Peters was showing her and he turned, asking, unctuously, "See
here, have you got a suite?"
Peters stepped back and looked in surprise from one to the other.
"Got what?"
"Got a--?" repeated Townsend, but his question was broken into by
Margaret, who exclaimed:
"Oh, Mr. Peters, we would like to see Miss Buckley and Mrs. Jones."
"All right," he said; "I will go up and tell them you are here," and he
disappeared up the Nevada stairs.
"But, young man," Townsend was insisting as he put his foot on the first
stair, "I want to get a--" he reiterated, but Margaret again placed a
restraining hand on his arm. "Wait until he comes down," she simpered.
As the clerk disappeared behind the portieres at the top of the stairs,
Townsend turned to Margaret, putting his arm about her waist. "What's
the matter, dear? Don't you want the clerk to know we are married?" he
asked, in injured tones.
"I didn't want you to tell him right before me."
He looked into her eyes. "You are not ashamed of it, are you?"
"No," she drawled, in her usual giggle, "but it is embarrassing to leave
here this morning to get rid of number one and come back this evening
with number two." Townsend started, removing his arm from her waist.
Putting it back, she pouted, "You are not angry, are you, dear?"
Indulgently, but not enthusiastically, he answered, "It is a little
jarring to be referred to as number two."
"Oh, I didn't mean that!" she exclaimed, leaning coquettishly on his
shoulder. "But I can't bear to have every one staring at us."
"But this isn't a secret marriage, Maggie," said the judge.
At this Margaret drew herself away from him, horror in her opened mouth
and widening eyes. "Oh, don't say that!" she protested. "My name is
Margaret," adding, sweetly, "I don't mind if they find out about it
after we are gone, dear, but let's try to keep them from finding it out
to-night."
"All right, my darling, just as you say," and he drew her to him again.
Peters reappeared at the stairs.
"Mrs. Jones will be down in a minute," he announced, and was going to
say more, but the sight of Margaret locked close in Lemuel Townsend's
dignified arms permitted him no further expression than a prolonged and
astonished "Oh!" which wrought a quick parting of the loving couple,
while Margaret, blushing furiously, hastened to explain: "Judge Townsend
is my husband, Mr. Peters. We were married this afternoon."
Peters had been having much of his own way since Mrs. Jones and Millie
had retired from the actual management of the hotel, and his authority
ran away with him at times, thrusting him into situations in which his
assumption brought him quick rebuke. This was one of them. Obsequiously
and with an easy laugh he extended a congratulatory hand to Townsend,
while he remarked, "Quick work, eh, judge?"
Townsend stood back and withered Peters with a glance that did its full
duty from head to foot.
Margaret, kind-hearted, and seeing Peters's embarrassment, hastened to
be friendly. "We don't want you to say a word about it to anybody!"
"Oh, I can keep a secret. My congratulations. I hope this one turns out
better than the other one did," Peters effused.
Margaret sighed. The judge shuddered. It was the fourth time since they
were married that he had been reminded that he was number two.
"If you don't mind," he ordered, severely, "we won't discuss that
question."
Margaret, anxious to prevent further repartee on the subject, went
up-stairs, calling back, "When Mrs. Jones comes down, will you tell her
I will be back in five minutes?"
When she had disappeared Townsend ordered Peters to get up a special
supper for four, suggesting that the champagne he had brought with him,
and which was in the basket on the floor, be put on ice. Peters
disappeared to do his duty, but Townsend followed close behind him,
desirous of directing the spreading of a good wedding supper for Mrs.
Townsend, Mrs. Jones, and Millie.
He had been gone but a few minutes when Mrs. Jones came down the stairs.
She looked around, expecting to find Margaret Davis awaiting her. Not
seeing her, she returned to the floor above, when Mr. and Mrs. Harper
came bursting in.
"How do you do? Don't you remember us?" Harper called out, as he held
forth a welcoming hand.
"Surely!" cried Mrs. Jones. She came quickly down the stairs and shook
hands with Harper, kissing his pretty wife.
"We just brought your husband and a friend of his over from Reno," said
Harper.
"Oh, where are they?" Mrs. Jones asked, excitedly. She had been waiting
all afternoon for Bill and was beginning to fear lest he had decided not
to return home.
"Oh, Bill's out there telling his experiences as a lawyer," Harper
laughed, and Mrs. Jones joined him, happy to know that Bill was back,
the same lovable old boaster as before.
Margaret Townsend, hearing the voices, hurried to join the group,
throwing her arms wildly around Mrs. Jones's neck and giggling like a
school-girl.
"Who do you think drove me over?" she asked Mrs. Jones, answering
herself. "Judge Townsend."
"My, but that was romantic!" exclaimed Mrs. Jones.
"Why, what do you know about it?" Margaret simpered, putting Mrs. Jones
from her and looking into her eyes.
The dining-room door opened and Townsend burst in, going to his wife and
exercising his new proprietorship by putting his arm about her. She drew
away, blushing, and hastened to introduce the Harpers.
Townsend acknowledged the introduction; then he turned to Mrs. Jones.
"I'm very glad to see you under more pleasant circumstances, mother," he
said.
"Thank you, Lem!" she answered, tears gathering in her eyes. "Oh, what a
mean fool I was! But, Lem, I 'ain't heard a word yet about how that fine
young man made out--I'm just dyin' to know if John Marvin won his case!"
"Oh, you really haven't heard?" exclaimed Margaret. "I should say he
certainly did win his case, my dear!"
"Thomas and Hammond were lucky to keep out of jail," said Townsend.
"They gave up this place without a murmur."
"What?" Mrs. Jones gasped.
"Surely you know that the place is yours again?" Harper asked, while
they all nodded eager confirmation.
"Ours again?" Mrs. Jones repeated, excitedly.
"Absolutely, my dear!" Margaret hastened to explain. "And the judge and
I were married this afternoon!" Irrespective of Mrs. Jones's bewildered
gasp, Margaret rushed on: "And, mother, you are to get all the money the
railroad pays for the waterfall, and it's an awful lot! The Golden Gate
Land Company is a fake concern! To keep out of jail, where they belong,
those two sharpers are making restitution at once to Mr. Marvin and to
everybody else they can! And now you're going to have supper with us,
mother! Mr. and Mrs. Harper are going to join us--and you, too, Millie
dear," she added, turning to the girl, who had joined the group and
stood there listening, her cheeks flushed with a conflict of emotions.
"Oh!" Millie gasped. "Oh--then what--"
What Millie was going to say was lost in a general chorus of delighted
exclamations.
"Oh, Lem," cried Mrs. Jones, "won't you let me do the cooking? I'm just
dyin' to get back into that kitchen again!"
"Well, I know what your cooking is like, mother," replied Townsend,
smiling; "and if you really want to go out there and cook that supper, I
say it would be a crime to stop you!"
"Let's all help!" exclaimed little Mrs. Harper, who looked as if she
would not have the faintest idea what to do in a kitchen.
"Fine!" echoed her amused husband. "Come on, folks!"
Mrs. Jones led the way, and they all went out through the dining-room
and into the kitchen, bent on making a home of the place for the first
time since the new regime went into effect.