“He is here, he came yesterday.”
“And you did not mention that fact to me, when you know I want a good, reliable expert.”
“I did not, because I wouldn't urge his services upon any one—even you—and then I think he might be already engaged to go to examine some mines in Nevada, as parties have been looking for him for that purpose.”
“Please don't be so proud as to deprive me of the services of so good a man, but tell him to come to my hotel at once.”
“Very well, I'll tell him, but he will not be here until five o'clock. Shall I tell him to call on you after dinner?”
“Yes, at half-past seven exactly, to send his card to me to any place I may be at the hotel. And now I'll go to have two or three assays more of this rock. Remember, I shall be looking for Fred at half-past seven.”
“I'll remember. He will be there promptly.”
It was very evident that the “party from San Diego” made an impression and quite a stir among the guests of the hotel, who were at dinner when they entered the dining-room. Preceded by the head waiter, they had to cross the entire length of the room, for the seats assigned to them were at the furthest corner from the door. Everybody turned to look, to see what everybody else was looking at, and all acknowledged that they had never seen handsomer or more graceful people than those two couples. Exclamations of surprise were uttered in suppressed tones, and unqualified praises were whispered everywhere. The head waiter was called here and there to say who these four people were, so very handsome and distingué.
“They are from Southern California, on their way east. Mr. George Mechlin and bride, her sister, and their friend Mr. Darrell, travelling with them,” was the answer that the steward had to give twenty times.
“Which is the bride, the blonde or the brunette?”