her regrets to Adrian Faber, and instead was staying in the company of a young man whose only contact with her in the past had been as a boy in a filling station where her father’s car used to be serviced, they would lift up their hands in horror and reproach her most mercilessly.
“Laurel Sheridan! What have you done? You crazy girl!” she could imagine her friends and relative saying. “To go off on a wild goose chase after a job to teach school in a little dinky town and ruin your chances to get the absolutely best catch of the city! Don’t you know that Adrian Faber is simply rolling in wealth and able to give you anything you want? And don’t you know that he is just crazy about you?” Laurel could almost hear the tones of her cousin’s voice as she would say these things if she ever found out about the matter.
But they never should know. Laurel had no intention of telling them,
ever!
If she got home tonight sometime, she would simply explain that she had car trouble, and by the time she got back home it was too late to go to that party. Besides, she was tired and didn’t feel equal to staying up practically all night as it would likely prove to be. She would pass it off that way. And when and if she took that job in Carrollton, she would just pass out of their picture as quietly and painlessly as possible, and let them say what they would after she was gone. They need never know about the young man who had saved her life and been so kind and interesting afterward. That was her own secret, and too pleasant and sort of sacred to be slung into public gaze and rollicked around among kindly gossiping tongues till all the beauty and friendship were taken out of it.
Well, and then tonight, or at latest tomorrow morning, this nice young soldier boy out of her childhood’s past, would say good-bye and pass on to his camp or his war or whatever, and would not be around anymore for anybody to jeer about. Then they would exert all the influence they had to make her snare and marry one of those wholly desirable young men whom they had so obviously flung at her from time to time.
Into these pleasant reflections came footsteps—Phil Pilgrim coming out the door and down the steps of the brick house, followed by older footsteps. A tall elderly man stood on the porch.
“Then you’ll let me know, Pilgrim, not later than ten tomorrow morning?”
“Yes sir. I’ll let you know if I can get my leave extended a few hours at least.”
“Well, find out tonight if you can possibly get into contact with your captain. I should like to get these papers signed tomorrow for sure. I want to get the manager here to meet you tomorrow evening at the latest, sooner if possible. This thing must be put through at once.”
“All right, sir. I’ll do my best. Good night, sir!” And Pilgrim swung into his car and started it, sweeping smoothly down the drive to the road and out toward the town again.
“Well,” he said in a voice half glad, half serious, “I’ve as good as sold my property. The government
is
going to build a big munitions factory for defense up there, and they are willing to pay a good price. It’s a good thing, I guess.”
“That’s grand!” said Laurel. “I congratulate you. But the
government!
Do you mean
the government
is going to build up there on Crimson Mountain? Why, that’s wonderful! Only why do they locate a plant where men are to work so far from town and from a railroad? Does he know what he is talking about?”
“So he says. I don’t know whether he knows or not, but he certainly thinks he does. It seems incredible that the government should want my little old parcel of land that I have always considered of very little account, but he says it does, and I shall soon find out. Probably tomorrow. The weird thing about it is my land seems to be the kingpin in this plan to build up on old Crimson. You see, my land has the water power, and of course they can’t get along without water power. If I
“Laurel Sheridan! What have you done? You crazy girl!” she could imagine her friends and relative saying. “To go off on a wild goose chase after a job to teach school in a little dinky town and ruin your chances to get the absolutely best catch of the city! Don’t you know that Adrian Faber is simply rolling in wealth and able to give you anything you want? And don’t you know that he is just crazy about you?” Laurel could almost hear the tones of her cousin’s voice as she would say these things if she ever found out about the matter.
But they never should know. Laurel had no intention of telling them,
ever!
If she got home tonight sometime, she would simply explain that she had car trouble, and by the time she got back home it was too late to go to that party. Besides, she was tired and didn’t feel equal to staying up practically all night as it would likely prove to be. She would pass it off that way. And when and if she took that job in Carrollton, she would just pass out of their picture as quietly and painlessly as possible, and let them say what they would after she was gone. They need never know about the young man who had saved her life and been so kind and interesting afterward. That was her own secret, and too pleasant and sort of sacred to be slung into public gaze and rollicked around among kindly gossiping tongues till all the beauty and friendship were taken out of it.
Well, and then tonight, or at latest tomorrow morning, this nice young soldier boy out of her childhood’s past, would say good-bye and pass on to his camp or his war or whatever, and would not be around anymore for anybody to jeer about. Then they would exert all the influence they had to make her snare and marry one of those wholly desirable young men whom they had so obviously flung at her from time to time.
Into these pleasant reflections came footsteps—Phil Pilgrim coming out the door and down the steps of the brick house, followed by older footsteps. A tall elderly man stood on the porch.
“Then you’ll let me know, Pilgrim, not later than ten tomorrow morning?”
“Yes sir. I’ll let you know if I can get my leave extended a few hours at least.”
“Well, find out tonight if you can possibly get into contact with your captain. I should like to get these papers signed tomorrow for sure. I want to get the manager here to meet you tomorrow evening at the latest, sooner if possible. This thing must be put through at once.”
“All right, sir. I’ll do my best. Good night, sir!” And Pilgrim swung into his car and started it, sweeping smoothly down the drive to the road and out toward the town again.
“Well,” he said in a voice half glad, half serious, “I’ve as good as sold my property. The government
is
going to build a big munitions factory for defense up there, and they are willing to pay a good price. It’s a good thing, I guess.”
“That’s grand!” said Laurel. “I congratulate you. But the
government!
Do you mean
the government
is going to build up there on Crimson Mountain? Why, that’s wonderful! Only why do they locate a plant where men are to work so far from town and from a railroad? Does he know what he is talking about?”
“So he says. I don’t know whether he knows or not, but he certainly thinks he does. It seems incredible that the government should want my little old parcel of land that I have always considered of very little account, but he says it does, and I shall soon find out. Probably tomorrow. The weird thing about it is my land seems to be the kingpin in this plan to build up on old Crimson. You see, my land has the water power, and of course they can’t get along without water power. If I
Similar Books
