And then, as if to give the lie to his words, he stepped upon a broad stone doorstep and was faced by a radiant girl in a sky-blue evening gown, with precious stones in her dark hair, and gilded, high-heeled slippers on her feet.
“Good evening,” she greeted them easily. “Welcome to El Trono de Tolerancia. There are baking powder biscuits, venison, and chocolate for supper, and we’ve an extra bed.”
CHAPTER II
EL TRONO DE TOLERANCIA
DR. INMAN SHONTO was not easily moved to a display of surprise, but for at least once in his life he found himself unequal to the occasion.
The girl in the doorway was galvanically pretty. Her features were of that striking, contrasty quality that is the result of an artistic makeup—but she was not made up. She was dark, red-lipped, large-eyed, and her figure brought a quick flush of masculine appreciation in the doctor’s face. Physically, it seemed to him, he had never before seen so gloriously all-right a girl. But the desirable physical characteristics which she displayed were not what had caused the cat to get the physician’s tongue. It was the low-neck, sleeveless gown, the sparkling hair ornaments, the gilded slippers and the creaseless silk stockings—all of which had for their background the coal-oil-lighted interior of a log cabin lost in the wilderness—that had wrecked his customary poise.
Her ringing laugh served in a measure to readjust his scattered wits. She had interpreted the meaning of his surprise.
“It’s my birthday!” was the girlish announcement that followed her fun-provoking laugh. “It’s my birthday—and I’m twenty-two—and my name is Charmian Reemy. Mrs. Charmian Reemy, I suppose it is my duty to inform you. Aren’t you coming in, Dr. Shonto?”
At last the doctor’s hat was in his hand, and Andy Jerome, standing just behind him and equally amazed, removed his too.
Shonto was mumbling something about the unexpected pleasure of meeting a girl in the wilderness who knew his name while Andy followed him inside. The girl hurried on before them and was arranging comfortable thong-bottom chairs before a huge stone fireplace. Skins and bright-coloured Navajo rugs half covered the puncheon floor. Dainty, inexpensive curtains hung at the windows. Deer antlers and enlarged photographs of wildwood scenes broke the solemnity of the dark log walls.
Before the fireplace another woman bent and cooked in a Dutch oven on red coals raked one side from the roaring fire of fir wood.