Lightnin Part 9

"This is the same suit." Bill's jest might have brought further nagging upon his shoulders, but Millie's entrance from the dining-room turned Mrs. Jones's attention to her.

"Oh, daddy, you're back!" Millie went quickly to her foster-father and attempted to put her arms about his neck.

He drew away from her, asking, quickly, "What of it?"

"Are you all right?" Her tones were anxious and her gaze not less so.

Whereupon Bill proved his sobriety just as he had proved it to her mother.

"Now are you satisfied?" he asked, as she smiled at him.

Kissing him, Millie reminded him gently that it was past dinner-time and that he had better go into the dining-room, where something hot awaited him.

"Please come now, daddy," she added. "The girls want to get their work done."

Bill hesitated. He glanced surrept.i.tiously over at the Nevada desk, where, to the best of his knowledge, he had deposited a half-filled flask the night previous. His wife's eye, however, was on him. Suddenly she stepped up to him and took him firmly by the arm.

"Bill Jones," she said, "you're comin' right inside now an' eat!

Whatever else is on your mind can wait--an' it might be a waste o' time, anyway!"

Finding himself propelled toward the dining-room, Lightnin' cast an appealing, whimsical glance at Millie, but she covertly shook her head to indicate that even she could not gainsay Mrs. Jones just then.

Left alone, Millie busied herself at the desk with some accounts which she wanted to finish before the arrival of a fresh contingent of guests, due that afternoon. She put down her pencil after a few minutes of work, however, and leaned her elbows on the desk, her chin in her hands thoughtfully. She had a well-defined suspicion as to where Lightnin' had been the night previous, and--well, Millie was curious about it.

Her reflections were interrupted by the entrance of Lemuel Townsend.

There was an air of importance about him. He was frock-coated and altogether spick and span.

"h.e.l.lo, Millie!" he said, walking up to the desk and shaking hands with her. "I've been trying to get around here all week, but I'm mighty pressed for time these days, you know! How is everything? You're all filled up, I suppose?"

"Nevada is full," Millie answered, smiling; "it always is, but the California side is often empty. Oh, it's great fun--I call it the Hotel Lopside! Sometimes I'm sorry that we're giving it up."

"Oh! Then you've really decided to put through the idea of selling the place!"

"Yes. Mother made up her mind this morning, and I more than approve it, all things considered. Daddy hasn't--hasn't quite agreed, though, but it's for his own good. I don't quite understand daddy's objections. I wanted to talk to him this morning about it, but I didn't get a chance.

There's been something mysterious in his manner lately."

"Something mysterious--about Lightnin'?"

"Yes," said Millie, thoughtfully. "Mother hasn't noticed it, of course, being so busy and worried--and outwardly daddy is his usual easy-going, amiable self. But I have a feeling that he has--or thinks he has--something up his sleeve. Daddy can't hide things from me, you know!

Another thing, he doesn't seem to like Mr. Thomas at all--is downright rude to him at times. I can't understand it, for it isn't like daddy!"

Townsend frowned in a puzzled way. "Perhaps you're taking some of dear old Lightnin's notions too seriously, Millie," he remarked. "Though I must say that I have a great deal of faith in Bill. I've been a little out of touch with the situation lately," he went on, judicially, "but from what you and mother have told me about the proposed sale, and from the one or two talks I have had with Mr. Thomas, I am inclined to agree with you and mother that this sale is an excellent idea. So far as I can judge, it is a sound investment and all for the best."

"Of course it is!" said Millie. "But now--how about yourself? How is the campaign going, Mr. Townsend?"

"Splendidly! But it's rather trying, as I have to do most of the campaigning myself--even the odd jobs!"

He looked down at a bundle of large, printed placards which he carried under his arm. Withdrawing one, he held it up for her inspection. Millie read, "Vote for Lemuel Townsend for Superior Judge of the Second Judicial District."

"Would you mind if I tacked up some of these in the lobby?" he asked, joining in her laugh.

"Not at all!" Millie exclaimed. "I've a hammer and tacks right here in the desk. Let me help you--and I do so hope you'll win!"

Chatting, they proceeded to embellish the lobby with Lem Townsend's name and ambition. Their operations were brought to a pause by the arrival of the expected new guests.

CHAPTER VII

As the motor-stage drew up to the door, Millie ran out on the veranda to deliver a few commissions to the driver to execute when he got back to town. She noted that Sheriff Blodgett was a pa.s.senger, and that he jumped down and preceded the guests into the lobby.

The first of the new arrivals to step out of the stage and enter the hotel was a chic little woman of about twenty-four, with big brown eyes and auburn hair, dressed in a bright blue outing-flannel coat and skirt and a tiny red hat from which hung a heavy veil. It was obvious that she was suffering from great embarra.s.sment, as she walked quickly about the lobby, going from one register to the other, while a maid followed her with an armful of bundles. The woman looked helplessly from wall to wall and desk to desk. The presence of Blodgett and Townsend seemed to add to her embarra.s.sment, a condition still further aggravated by the appearance of a third man, Everett Hammond, who chanced to come strolling down from up-stairs at the moment. She fluttered up to Millie as the girl came in from the veranda.

"Would you like to register?" Millie asked.

"How do you do," was the reply, uttered in a timid treble. "I am Mrs.

Harper. I understand--" Her head turned from side to side as she hesitated. She clasped her hands and gazed pleadingly at Millie. "I've been told--" Again she hesitated nervously, tears in her eyes. She noticed Blodgett and Hammond gazing at her. In desperation, her blushes showing under the heavy veil, she whispered, quaveringly, "Could I speak to you privately?"

"Certainly," said Millie, hiding her amus.e.m.e.nt. "Just step into this room," and she led the little woman away.

As they left the room, followed by the faithful maid, another guest entered, an attractive woman of thirty. She was highly colored as to hair and complexion, and she had about her an air far removed from the chic, haughty member of the millionaire divorce colony that centered about the Reno hotels. In type she was not unlike Mrs. Harper, except that she did not show any special evidence of timidity. On the contrary, she seemed perfectly at home. But she came in with the aid of a crutch and leaning on the arm of the stage-driver. Her eyes took a calm inventory of the lobby--including Townsend, on whom she smiled coquettishly as she sighed with relief and sank into a chair.

Townsend was leaning against the California desk, and he had been watching Blodgett and Hammond, who, conversing in low tones, had strolled out to the veranda. He was surprised to note that the pair had met before and seemed to know each other quite well. His attention, however, was now drawn to the attractive new guest. Her smile was not without effect. She turned to the driver.

"I'm all right now, thank you," she drawled, though her voice was soft and pleasant. "Just drop my bag here." Fumbling in her purse for change that did not seem to be there, she directed a glance toward Townsend and smiled again. "Will you change five dollars for me?" she asked.

Townsend drew out his wallet and examined its contents, but put it back again disappointedly. "I'm afraid I can't," he said, with obvious regret.

"Well, then," said the attractive woman, with a frown, "pay the driver, please."

Townsend gave a slight start of chagrin, feeling that his standing as a candidate for a judges.h.i.+p was suffering by her lack of discernment.

Then, as the truth of the situation dawned on him, he suppressed a chuckle. Without a word, he handed some change to the driver.

"Charge it to my account," she ordered, settling herself comfortably in the chair, extending one foot which was bound in a heavy bandage about the ankle and clad in a soft slipper.

Townsend, still smiling, began: "Well--er--"

"I'm Mrs. Davis," she interrupted, ignoring his embarra.s.sment. "Mrs.

Margaret Davis." She turned her wide blue eyes full upon him as she switched in her chair, the movement bringing a twinge of pain to her face.

Townsend left the desk and came toward her. "I'm very glad to meet you."

He extended an affable hand. "I'm Lemuel Townsend, and I--"

Mrs. Davis did not offer him her hand at once, but gave him an inquisitive glance. "Will you show me to my room?" she asked.

"I don't know where it is," he said, laughing. By this time his ruffled dignity was a.s.suaged by the twinkle in Mrs. Davis's eye and the deep dimple in her chin.

"Why, weren't you expecting me?" she asked, in astonishment, her mind as yet refusing to grasp the situation.