She told it to him, plaintively. It was getting so hot! Her kitchen was a veritable Turkish bath these days. At noon, it was terrific. Her eyes were appealing, infantile.
“It’s not shelves.” MacLean’s grin sobered.
Would it be too much to ask, would Mr. Rickard mind in the least, he must be perfectly frank and tell her if they would be in the way at all, but while this hot spell lasted, could they, the three of them, eat in the mess-tent with the men?
“Surely!” Rickard met it heartily. She would find it rough, but if she could stand it, yes, he thought it a good idea. His eagerness suggested relief to one listener. The Hardins’ meals had been a severe drain on that office. The new arrangement offered a cessation of petty problems.
Her point so easily gained, she knew she must go. She acknowledged interrupting business, but there was one thing more. Would Mr. Rickard tell her how to trace a lost bundle? If she were at home, of course, she would not have to ask any one, but here, so far away from express offices! A package had been sent to her from Chicago, it must be months ago. It reached the towns shortly after she left. She had written casually there to forward it; it had not yet come. She really did not know how to begin.
“Make a note of that, MacLean,” Rickard volunteered. He was still standing. “He’ll send a tracer out after it, Mrs. Hardin.”
And then there was nothing for her to do but go. Her retreat was graceful, without haste, dignified. There was a womanly suggestion of business decorum. She smiled a farewell at MacLean, who was watching the approach of Innes Hardin and Estrada. The neglected smile passed on to Rickard, accented. He did not see the aborted entrance of Hardin’s sister and the young Mexican. He was itching to be at his work.
He let out a growl when Mrs. Hardin was out of ear-shot.
“What in thunder did she want all those shelves for? And cupboards and a cooling closet? Every week since she came, she had to have a carpenter, and I couldn’t refuse; you know what they’d think, that I was trying to show my power. Shucks! What in Halifax do women come to a place like this for? There’s Hardin—brings in two women to cook for him, and now, please may they all eat with the men?”
His secretary subdued a chuckle. He was visualizing a procession of boxes of choice Havanas—from Bodefeldt, Hamlin and the rest of the gang. He need not buy a smoke for a year.