Sunbeam had been good to Mary Leeds. On the night that her father had been killed, several wealthy bad-men had died intestate, and Sunbeam settled their estates without recourse to law.
But the life of the border mining-town palled upon her. She did not fit in somehow. The estimable Mrs. Porter had taken her into their home and had grown rather refined in her language, due to the instructive criticism of Mary Leeds.
“My ——!” exclaimed Mrs. Porter. “Ever since Jim Porter flirted openly with a stick of dynamite I’ve had t’ do everythin’ ’cept chaw tobacco; but now I reckon I’ve got t’ curry m’ finger-nails, wear stockin’s and say, ‘Yessir’ t’ every hardheaded son-of-a-rooster that comes after his laundry.”
“But,” explained Mary, “you are a woman.”
“Tha’s so,” agreed Mrs. Porter dubiously. “I s’pose I am. I’ve got them charact’ristics. I kinda wish you’d stay here in Sunbeam. Me ’n’ you git along sweet and pretty, but after you’re gone I’ll be the only ree-fined female in this whole —— town. Mebbe I’ll forgit everythin’ you learned me, and start in swearin’ like ——.”
“I hope not,” sighed Mary. “You have been lovely to me, Mrs. Porter. I don’t know what I would have done without you and——”
Mrs. Porter lifted her homely face and looked closely at Mary, who was staring out of the half-open window. The rumble of a series of blasts shook the ground, and from over on the street came the bumping and rattling of a heavy freight wagon.
Mary Leeds was not beautiful, though not far from it. Her face was appealing in its delicate lines, and a pair of wistful, blue eyes looked out into the world from below a tangle of soft brown hair.
Mary turned and saw Mrs. Porter looking at her.