The Yale expositor. (Yale, St. Clair County, Mich.) 1894-current, 1918-06-13
CHATTER xIlI-continued.

Despair. It seemed that what women
resided in Hazelton must invariably
aress In Mother Hubbard gowns OF
cheap cotton print with other gar
nents to match. But eventually. they
found for her undergarments of
sort, waist and skirt, and comfort
able pair of shoes. Hats, as milliner
would understand the term, there were
none. And In default of such she
stuck to the gray felt sombrero she
had worn into the Klappan and out
again-which, In truth, became her
very we'll, when tilted at the proper
angle above her heavy black hair.
Then she went back to the hotel, and
sought bathroom.
Returning from this she found Bill,
a Bill all shaved and shorn, unloading
himself of sundry packages of new
attire.
"Aha. everything is lovely" he greet
ed. "Old Hack jumped at the pelts,
and paid fat price for the lot. Also
the ranch deal has gone through. He's
q prince, old Hack. Sent up a man
and had 1t surveyed and classified
and the deed waiting for me. And
oh, say, here's letter for you.V
"For me? Oh, yes" as she looked
at the handwriting and postmark. II
wrote to Lorraine Marsh when we were
going north. Good heavens, look at
the date-it's been here since last Sep
TENDER !"
"Hackaberry knew where we were,"
Bill explained. Sometimes in camps
like this they hold mail two or three
years for men that have gone into the
Interior"
She put aside the letter, and dressed
while Bill had his bath. Then, with
the smoke and CRIME Of a hard trail
obliterated, and with decent clothes
upon them, they sought the dining
room. There, while they waited to be
served, Hazel read Lorraine Marsh's
letter, ana passed it to Bill with a
self-consc!0us little laugh.
There's an invitation there we
might accept" she said casually.
He returned the letter as the wait
ress brought their food.
Wouldn't Is be nice to take q trip
homer" Hazel suggested thoughtfully.
"Pd love. to-"
1--WE are going home" Bill reminded
gently.
"Oh, of course" she smiled. "But
I mean to Granville. I'd like to go
back there with you for a while, just
tO-just to-"
"To show EN-" he supplied lacon-
ically.
"Oh, Billw she pouted.
Nevertheless, she could not deny
that there was a measure of truth In
his brief remark. She did want to
"show 'em."
She looked across the table at her
husband, and thought to herself with
proud satisfaction that she had done
well. Viewed from any angle whatso-
ever, Bill Wagstaff stood head and
shoulders above all the men she had
ever known. Big, physically and men,
tIlly, olean-minded and capable-in-
dubltably she had captured a lion,
and, though she might have denied
stoutly the imputation, she wanted
Granville to see her lion and hear him
roar.
"Still thinking Granville" Bill
Queried, when they had finished an
uncommonly silent meal.
Hazel flushed slightly. She was,
and momentarily she felt that she
should have been thinking of their lit
tie nest up by Pine River Pass instead.
She knew that Bill was homing to the
cabin. She herself regarded it with
affection, but of q different degree from
his. Her mind was more occupied
with another, more palpitating circle
Of life than was possible at the cabin,
much as she appreciated its green and
peaceful beauty. The sack of gold
lying in the bank had somehow opened
up far-hung possibilities. She skipped
the interval of affairs which she knew
must be attended to, and betook her
self and Bill to Granville, thence to
the bigger, older cities, where money
shouted in the voice of command,
where all things were possible to those
who had the price.
But she was beginning to know
this husband of hers too well to pro-
pose anything of the sort abruptly.
Behind his tenderness and patience
she had sometimes glimpsed some
thing inflexible. unyielding as the will
derness he loved. So she merely an
swered:
"In way, yes"
Lets go outside where can smoke
q decent cigar on top of this fairly
decent meal" he suggested. "Then
well figure on the next move. 1 think
about twenty-four hours In Hazelton
will do me. There's a steamer goes
duwn-river tomorrow"
-Four days later they stood on the
deck of a grimy little steamer breast
ing the outgoing tide that surged
through the First Narrows. Presently
they swung around Brockton Point
and Vancouver spread its peninsular
clutter before them. Tugs and
launches pulled by. about their harbor
IN. forrv oIuofarod hlaCk with