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All the vitality of Millings and whatever its deficiencies the town lacked nothing of the splendor and vigor of its youth throbbed and stamped and shook the walls of the Town Hall that night. To understand that dance, it is necessary to remember that it took place on a February night with the thermometer at zero and with the ground five feet beneath the surface of the snow.
She had spent some of the rather large pay she drew upon coverings of French blue for the plush furniture, upon a dainty yellow porcelain tea-set, upon little oddments of decoration. The wall-paper and carpet were inoffensive, the quietest probably in Millings, so that her efforts had met with some success.
"I can't stay in Millings," Dickie said, "and work in Poppa's hotel and watch this, Sheila unless, some way, I can help you." "Then you'd better go," she said lifelessly, "because I can't see what else there is for me to do. Oh, I shan't go on with it for very long, of course " He came an eager half-step nearer.
"First you run out at night with the mercury at 4 below and come dashing back scared to death, banging at the door, and then you tell me you like Dickie and ask me not to mention the finest fellow in Millings!" "The finest fellow in the finest city in the world!" cried Sheila and laughed. Her laugh was like a torrent of silver coins, but it had the right maliceful ring of a brownie's "Ho! Ho! Ho!"
She asked him a few small questions as they drew near to Millings. The strangeness of the country they were now running through excited her and fired her courage these orange-colored cliffs, these purple buttes, these strange twisting cañons with their fierce green streams. "Please tell me about Mrs. Hudson and your daughters?" she asked. This was a few hours before they were to come to Millings.
James Greely, of the Millings National Bank, and, remembering at the same time something that the girl from Cheyenne had said about his smile, he caught Sheila's eye deliberately and made use of his dimple. "What do you like?" he asked. "If you tell me what you like, I I'll see that you get it." "You're very powerful, aren't you? You sound like a fairy godmother." "You look like a fairy.
"Say, Miss Arundel," he began, looking down at the smooth, jewel-bright head, "you haven't given Millings a square deal." Sheila looked at him quizzically. "You see," went on Jim, "it's winter now." "Yes, Mr. Greely. It is winter." "And that's not our best season. When summer comes, it's awfully pretty and it's good fun. We have all sorts of larks us fellows and the girls.
Sheila wrapped her gray veil over her small hat which fitted close about her face. "I'm getting used to the dust. Does it ever rain around Millings? And does it ever stop blowing?" "We don't like Millings to-day, do we?" Sylvester was bending his head to peer through the gray mist of her veil. She held herself stiffly beside him, showing the profile of a small Sphinx.
Millings is God's country all right." On the journey he put Sheila into a compartment, supplied her with magazines and left her for the most part to herself for which isolation she was grateful. With her compartment door ajar, she could see him in his section, when he was not in the smoking-car, or rather she could see his lean legs, his long, dark hands, and the top of his sleek head.
"Oh, Dickie, my dear, I'm not laughing. I'm so tired I can hardly stand. And truly you must go now. I'm horrid to you. I always am. And yet I do like you so much. And you are such a dear. And I feel there's something great about you. I should be glad for you to leave Millings. There is a much better chance for you away from Millings. I feel years old to-day.
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