He had one hand free to fish out the day-old telegram and give it to her. She read it with a swift blush crimsoning cheek and neck.
"The unscrupulous little tyke!" she said; and then, with self-defensive tact: "But you said you had bad news."
"Yes. A mine that our good old Uncle Steve is pretty deeply into has gone dry."
"Failed, you mean?"
"Yes, that's it. I wish you'd teach me how to talk English,—good clean English, like yours. Connie has tried it, but pshaw! she's worse than I am. But about the Lodestar: I don't know how deep the old man is in; he's such an innocent old infant about putting up money that I'm awfully afraid they have salted him. You must pump Connie and find out. I'll be in Leadville to-morrow night, and if there is anything to be done on the ground I'll do it. The old man has been a second father to me."
Myra promised, and went back once more to the unanswered dinner query.
"Now you remind me of it, I believe I haven't been to dinner," he admitted. "But that's nothing; a meal or two more or less isn't to be mentioned at such a time as this."
"I am going to get you something."
"No, don't; I'm too happy to eat."
But she insisted, and when she came back with a dainty luncheon on a tea-tray he did ample justice to it, if for no better reason than that she sat on the other side of the small reading-table and made tea for him.