A Man of Two Countries Part 14

Presently the tardy one arrived, beautiful in her serene, straightforward gaze from under fine brows and a wealth of dark hair that caught threads of light even under the gas-jets, and made hurriedly breathless excuses to her hostess. Danvers was introduced to her immediately, and the dining-room was invaded.

"So awkward of me," she explained in an undertone. "I turned my ankle as I came across the lawn, and had to wait quite a bit before I could move.

I was afraid at first I couldn't come to dinner, but I hated to disappoint Eva. Little Arthur must have left his hoop on the lawn, and I tripped on it. We live in the next house, and always come across lots.

Doesn't that sound New England-y?" She laughed softly. "My brother says I'll never drop our Yankee phrases. I say pail for bucket, and path for trail, and the other day I said farm for ranch."

"Your voice has more of _Old_ England than of New England," said Danvers, appreciatively. He had not spoken before except to acknowledge Mrs. Latimer's hurried introduction.

"Oh, thank you!" Miss Blair smiled, frankly pleased. "Not that I'm a bit of an Anglo-maniac," she hastened to affirm, "but, do you know," she leaned toward Danvers in an amusingly confidential way, "I've always felt mortified over my throaty voice--that is, I used to be."

Philip smiled, a smile that but few had ever seen. He listened with enjoyment. Something in his companion's tacit belief that he would understand her feeling was wonderfully pleasing. He seemed taken into her confidence at once as being worthy, and it did not lessen his pleasure to observe that the Honorable William Moore, who sat at the left of Miss Blair, received only the most formal recognition, despite his effort at conversation, to the neglect of his own dinner partner.

Wit and merriment flashed from one to another, and all but the host seemed overflowing with animation. Although Latimer looked after the needs of his guests, he was often preoccupied.

"Why so silent, judge?" asked the doctor in a lull of conversation.

"I beg your pardon," Arthur apologized. "I fear I was rude. Perhaps I was trying to work out the salvation of my country--from my own point of view."

"Planning for re-nomination?" asked Moore, innocently.

"And your ankle?" asked Danvers of Miss Blair, under cover of the laugh that followed Moore's attempt at wit. "I hope that you are not suffering from it." His observant eye had noted the smooth contour of the girl's face, but as the moments pa.s.sed the natural lack of high coloring seemed to grow more colorless.

"It hurts--a little," confessed the girl. "But it is of no consequence.

Mrs. Latimer's dinner must not be marred by my blundering in the dark. I should have come by the walk."

"You are thoughtful." Danvers looked again at the girl, and wished for the first time that he could use the small talk of society. Politics was debarred from the table conversation, but when they were again in the parlors Miss Blair turned to Danvers.

"Aren't you the senator from Chouteau?"

"Not yet," smiled Philip.

"Oh, but you will be. My brother says so."

"I'm glad some one is optimistic. I'm afraid I shall not be the deciding party."

"Who will be our United States senator?"

"That is hard to tell. So many straws sticking out of the tangle make it difficult to prophesy which will be pulled out."

"Your party is so split up this year," said the girl. "Which wing are you affiliated with?"

This was not "small talk," as Danvers recognized with an amused feeling that he had not expected a lady to know anything outside his preconceived idea of feminine chat.

"Montana politics have no wings," he quibbled.

Miss Blair laughed. "Really, haven't you decided which of the candidates you'll support for United States senator?" She ran over the names.

"That's rather a leading question, isn't it?" evaded Philip. "If a _man_ asked me, I'd give him no satisfaction. I will say to you, though, that I am going to do my best to send some one to Was.h.i.+ngton who is pledged to place community interests before his own."

"I did not mean to ask impertinent questions, or to cross-examine,"

quavered Miss Blair. "One who finds out anything from you must have taken his thirty-third degree in Masonry. I am not trying my hand at lobbying," she added as an afterthought. "You mustn't think that. I'm just interested in the political situation. And brother Charlie won't talk politics with me any more than he'll recount his experiences as a freighter."

"Charlie? Brother Charlie?" A dim memory revived. "I beg your pardon! Is Scar Faced Charlie your brother?"

"Yes. Didn't you know?"

"Then you are the little girl----"

"Winifred. I thought you didn't recognize me, though I knew you at once.

But you would scarcely remember me, while I--you know you saved my life."

"And to think that you have so changed--grown up! And that you are here!

I remember asking for you when Charlie was in Fort Benton, shortly after I went there to live; but you were away at school. I don't recall ever hearing your brother called Blair, though as a matter of fact I wasn't thinking of your name. I was thinking of you!"

"What a pretty speech! And Mrs. Latimer is always telling what a woman-hater you are!"

"I was not aware that I was of enough importance to be the subject of Mrs. Latimer's strictures," replied Danvers, his brow contracting. "But I believe I do have that reputation," he added, and smiled into her unbelieving brown eyes.

"Moore is not running for office this year," said Danvers presently, finding it easier to talk of matters politic.

"No. Charlie wants a place in the Senate--perhaps you know." She changed the subject by asking, "Do you think that a man should ever vote for a candidate not in his own party?"

"If he votes for the better man--especially in local politics--yes. Is it a political crime in your eyes?"

"I believe most politicians think so." Miss Blair also resorted to evasion.

They were joined by other guests, and the conversation became general.

The Honorable Mr. Moore, resplendent in a new dress suit, was saying pleasant things to his hostess.

"What a lucky dog the judge is, my dear Mrs. Latimer! You would carry off any situation. You deserve a wider field than this small Western city."

"Really?" cooed the flattered lady.

As she moved away, Moore's glance followed her, and a look of sudden inspiration illumined his s.h.i.+ny face. Wild Cat Bill, with his rotund form, resembled a domesticated house cat far more than the agile creature which had given him his frontier t.i.tle. The incongruity struck Danvers, and he smiled at Winifred Blair as she drifted to another part of the room--a smile that she returned with a friendly nod of farewell.

He did not see her again that evening, and not long afterward he and the doctor bade their hostess good-night.

"Not sorry you went, are you, Phil?" asked the doctor, as they walked to their hotel. "Goodness knows, Arthur and I labored hard enough to get you there."

"I have always disliked dinner parties." The observant doctor noticed the wording of the reply and drew his own conclusions.

"Come in and have a smoke with me," said the doctor, as they reached his room, and he bent over to insert the key. For years it had been Danvers'

habit to drop into the physician's office during the late afternoon or evening, to talk or smoke in silence, as the case may be. To-night he followed the doctor, and sat down for a half-hour's chat.

"That was a fetching gown that Mrs. Latimer wore; I don't envy Arthur the bills!" remarked the astute doctor, as he filled his pipe.

"I didn't notice," was Philip's indifferent reply. "I never know what women have on."

"And how lovely Miss Blair looked in blue!"