In Blue Creek Cañon

by Anna Chapin Ray

"I'm going to dress me," returned Allie. "I begged an invitation from Marjorie, and I'm going over there with mamma. You don't suppose that I'm going to lose all the fun, do you?" And she departed.

Society in Blue Creek was by no means as simple as a stranger might have been led to expect. During the winter months, there were few evenings that were not given up to some entertainment; and the little set to which the Burnams and Fishers and Everetts belonged were the gayest of the gay, with dinner parties and impromptu dances following one another in rapid succession. The enjoyment of these festivities was in no wise marred by the fact that one always met exactly the same people. Though the resources of the camp were not great, yet this set of friends was a thoroughly congenial one, consisting, as it did, of a dozen or more young married couples, together with several stray bachelors and a very few older people. Young women were deplorably scarce in Blue Creek, and, for a year, Louise had been the acknowledged belle among them, as she would have been, however, in the face of many rivals. Strangers, who were attracted to her side by her beauty, remained there, charmed by her easy manners and her ready wit; so, wherever she went she was sure to be the central figure of a little group of admirers, of whom Dr. Brownlee was usually the one nearest her side.

According to one of the pleasant customs of the little town, Mrs. Fisher had her weekly reception day. On Tuesday evenings, her house was always filled with the friends whom, with rare tact, she left to entertain themselves, while she moved up and down her charming rooms, with a word to one and a smile for another, now breaking in upon a flirtation which threatened to last too long, now bringing stray wallflowers into the middle of some hospitable group, and never for an instant forgetting to keep a watchful eye over any stranger who might chance to be among her guests. There was an attractive informality about these evenings, when one was at liberty to appear in a street gown, or an evening costume, and where the little supper was so simple as merely to be a pleasant break in the midst of the dancing, but not to suggest the idea of an overburdened hostess, struggling to feed a ravenous multitude. No one else in the town had quite the same gift for entertaining as Mrs. Fisher; no one else could carry out an "At Home" with quite such delightful simplicity. She gave them the use of her house, together with a cordial, unaffected welcome, and she left the rest to take care of itself. With this happy talent for receiving her friends, it was not strange that the tall, blonde woman was one of the most popular matrons in the camp.

This Tuesday evening was bidding fair to be as pleasant as its predecessors had been. The rooms were filled, and the air was echoing with the soft buzz of voices. A little pause in the dancing had scattered the young people, who were wandering about, some in the back parlor, watching the older guests grouped about the whist tables, some in the "den," across the hall, where the only light came from the great blazing fire which flickered over the pictures on the walls, and over the easy-chairs scattered about the cosy room. At the very back of the broad hall sat Louise and Dr. Brownlee, resting after their waltz, while they talked of one thing and another, the every-day interests which they shared in common. All at once Mrs. Fisher stood before them, with a young man at her side.

"I have been looking for you, Louise," she said. "Here is some one that I want to introduce to you: Mr. Atherden, Miss Everett. Mr. Atherden is a stranger, Miss Everett," she added; "and I leave it to you to make him feel at home. Dr. Brownlee, I wish you'd come and play the agreeable to Mrs. Nelson; she is looking dreadfully bored." And she led him away towards the parlor.

As Louise glanced up, at the introduction, she had been attracted by the young stranger before her. He was a man of about her own age, apparently, not very tall, but with a proud, erect carriage and a simple dignity which gave him the look of being a much larger man. His face, in spite of his eye-glasses and his silky, brown mustache, was almost boyish in its outlines; and he was faultlessly dressed, from his white tie and the white carnation in his button-hole, down to the toes of his shining shoes. His whole appearance was so likable that Louise welcomed him cordially, in spite of her regret at losing the doctor's society, and at once set about making him feel at home.

"How long have you been in Blue Creek, Mr. Atherden?" she asked politely. "I don't remember meeting you before."

"I only came a week ago," replied Mr. Atherden, as he took possession of the chair which Dr. Brownlee had so lately quitted. "I've been in San Francisco, the last two or three years; but I came up here to see about"—He hesitated for an instant; then he went on, with a little laugh. "Well, the fact is, I came up here to open an office. I'm a doctor, you know, and I heard that you hadn't a very good one here, and that there was a possible opening for another man."

"Indeed?" Louise's tone was icy in its politeness.

"Yes," resumed the young man, eyeing her closely; "so I thought I'd run up here and see for myself; but I found a first-rate man was in ahead of me, so I must depart in search of a fresh field."