Mrs. Alexander, during the interval she had spent alone at El Tovar, had wearied herself with showing off all the costumes she had brought in her trunks; also she had had a most glorious time in smiling engagingly at every man who had registered at the hotel. It made no difference to this rejuvenated lady whether the male guests were young, or middle-aged, or decrepit—her attentions were bestowed alike with impartiality.
It had, therefore, become a standing joke with the hotel employees whenever a newcomer made his appearance, to wager just what he might do to escape the flirtatious lady. But no member on that staff dreamed that the lady was the wife of the plain, little millionaire from Denver.
She had been determined to play without marital limitations; consequently, learning that Algy had not appeared there, she had registered at the El Tovar as “Miss Alexandria Marget,” and had thought herself most clever at the way she had changed her name.
When her grown daughter, Dodo, appeared upon the scene, however, Miss Marget could not explain her former masquerade. And the hotel clerks were chagrined to find that they had been making sport of one of the wealthiest women in the west. Dodo, not aware of her mother’s pastime, paid little heed to the humble attendants at the hotel.
The first day at Grand Canyon was devoted to visits to the Hopi and Navajo Indian settlement, where the girls watched with interest the handicraft workers in beads, willow, hide, and other curious things.
The second day at Grand Canyon, the weather became mild enough to permit a number of visitors to ride down the Bright Angel trail, and great preparations were made for spending the day and night down below, then coming up by another trail.
“You never expect to reach the bottom alive, do you?” demanded Mrs. Alexander, now restored to her rightful title.
“Why, of course!” retorted Dodo, laughingly. “It’s just as safe now as in July—and there isn’t a flake of snow to be had yet, so there is no danger along the trail. We had a far more dangerous time on going through the aspen brakes on Humphrey’s Peak.”
“Well, you foolish people may risk your necks if you choose, but don’t ask me to do so, too!” declared Mrs. Alexander.
“You dislike riding, anyway, Ma, so it’s just as well if you remain above,” returned Dodo, hoping to be agreeable, yet hailing the news that her mother would not ride down with them.