As they passed the bank, the workman was leaving his job; the day was not propitious for gold-leaf. Two words were completed, “The Desert.” The rest of the letters were inconspicuous skeletons.
Gerty jumped out at her tent door. She would not risk asking Mrs. Youngberg in. The unexpected might happen.
“You are going just the same?” called Mrs. Youngberg, her mouth full of dust.
Mrs. Hardin nodded. “Sure.” She ran in to her wilting grapes.
CHAPTER XVII
THE DRAGON TAKES A HAND
THE company’s automobile honked outside. Hardin frowned across the table at his wife. “You’re surely not going such a night as this?”
Gerty gave one of her light, elusive shrugs. No need to answer Tom when he was in one of his black moods. This was the first word he had spoken since he had entered the tent. She had warned Innes by a lifted eyebrow—they must be careful not to provoke him. Something had gone wrong at the office, of course! How much longer could she stand his humors, these ghastly silent dinners?
“The river on a rampage, and we go for a drive!” jeered Hardin.
The flood was not serious—yet! Tom loved to cry “Wolf!” No one was alarmed in town—Patton, Mrs. Youngberg, would have told her. Of course, one never knew what that dreadful river would do next, but if one had to wait always to see what the river’s next prank would be, one would never get anywhere!
Innes was leaving the table. “Well, I suppose I should be lashing on my hat!” Gerty’s pretty lips hardened as the girl left the tent. These Hardins always loved to spoil her enjoyment. They would like her to be a nun, a cloistered nun!