“Now, Mrs. Aydelot, seein’ your last bridge is burned, I’m humane enough to help you. You said this mornin’ you wanted to get away. Mr. Smith and I control some funds together, and he’s willing to take Shirley’s place and I’ll give you a reasonable figger, not quite so good as I could ’a done previous to this calamity—but I’ll take the Aydelot place off your hands.” Champers smiled triumphantly.
“The Aydelot place is not for sale. Good afternoon.” And Virginia left the office without more words.
When she was gone Champers turned to Smith with a growl.
“It’s danged hard to turn agin a woman like her. What made you so bitter?”
Smith half grinned and half snarled in reply: 116
“Oh, her neighbor, Shirley, you know.”
Hopeless and crushed, Virginia sat down on the bench before the Wyker House to wait for Juno to be brought to her from the stables. The afternoon sun was beginning to creep under the roof shading the doorway. Before her the dusty street ran into the dusty trail leading out to the colorless west. It was the saddest moment she had known in the conflict with the wilderness.
“Thy shoes shall be iron and brass,” ran the blessing of Asher through her mind. “It must be true today as in the desert long ago. And Asher lives by the memory of his mother’s blessing.” The drooping shoulders lifted. The dark eyes brightened.
“I won’t give up. I’m glad the money’s gone,” she declared to herself. “We did depend on it so long as we knew we had it.”
“What luck, Mrs. Aydelot?” It was John Jacobs who spoke as he sat down beside her.