“I’m disappointed in the town.”
“What’s the matter with the town?”
“It’s so commonplace. I expected it to be—well, different. It’s just like any other plains town.”
Berrie looked round at the forlorn shops, the irregular sidewalks, the grassless yards. “It isn’t very pretty, that’s a fact; but you can always forget it by just looking up at the high country. When you going up to the mill?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t had any word from Meeker, and I can’t reach him by telephone.”
“I know, the line is short-circuited somewhere; but they’ve sent a man out. He may close it any minute.”
“Where’s the Supervisor?” asked Nash.
“He’s gone over to Moore’s cutting. How are you getting on with those plats?”
“Very well. I’ll have ’em all in shape by Saturday.”
“Come in and make yourself at home,” said the girl to Norcross. “You’ll find the papers two or three days old,” she smiled. “We never know about anything here till other people have forgotten it.”