Angela traced the steel embroidery on a gray _suede_ bag which lay on the table. She had got it the other day to serve as understudy for the gold bag which was "taboo" for public use at present. She was glad that the forest creature did not know, and never would know, that she had secretly bought back his gold bag. If he found out, it might be his turn to misunderstand.
"How were you hurt in an accident?" she asked, for the sake of diverting the talk from angels.
"It was in a fire," said Nick.
"Oh! On your ranch."
"No. In San Francisco."
Her interest grew. "In the great fire?"
"Yes."
"Did you live in San Francisco then?"
"No. I just went there."
"I think I guess. You went on purpose to help?"
"I felt as if every man ought to do what he could. I couldn"t do much.
Shall we go on making believe?"
"You don"t like talking of your good deeds."
"Oh, good deeds! I don"t like talking of myself when there are better things to talk of. I could make you out a tour in the Yosemite, Mrs. May.
You shouldn"t travel by the ordinary stages. I"d get you something special, for the driving parts; and you should have the finest trail pony in California. I"d give ten years off my life to show you the Big Trees.
There are some mighty fine ones in other places, you know; the Santa Cruz forest is splendid. But it"s the Mariposa Big Trees, in the Yosemite, I mean. We"d drive from Wawona early in the morning, one day, and stay till the sunset. You can"t think what sunset"s like among the giant Sequoias, with the red light, like a rain of ruby stars, falling through the branches. And those trees are G.o.d"s own architecture. I guess even you have never seen a cathedral to touch it; because there can"t be one. All day you should stay in the forest. I"d find you places for lunch and dinner, and the squirrels would come and help you eat."
"It does sound nice," said Angela, bewitched by the picture.
"It would be--the nicest thing that ever happened. Only "nice" ain"t a big enough word. _Can"t_ it come true? Think, with your cat and your Kate and your trail guide? You called me a "friend in need." Can"t I be your guide in need? You"d have to get a guide for the Valley. Why not me?"
"We"ve only known each other a few days."
"Any other guide would be a stranger. And I guess, Mrs. May, if that"s all, we know each other as well as a good many, who call themselves friends, get to know one another in years. Do you ever find out anything about people that you didn"t _feel_ the first moment you set eyes on them?"
"Well--you did save my life!" she conceded. "I can"t get away from that."
"Do you mind not getting away from it?"
"No-o."
"Then will you take me for your shuvver and trial guide to those places? I won"t ask you any more, now. You can send me packing afterward, if you don"t think I live up to the character Mr. Morehouse has given you of me."
"Mr. Morehouse! I haven"t heard from him since my first day in New York."
"I mean the other Mr. Morehouse, his brother--your banker. Henry wired to him from New York. And he was writing you, to say, if you hadn"t got anybody who knew the ropes to see you through your excursions, you couldn"t do better than let Hilliard of Lucky Star be your pilot--kind of courier, you know. Both the Morehouses vouch for me, though it"s Henry who"s my friend. All strangers who come to have a look around California take a Californian to show them the sights. If you haven"t got Mr.
Morehouse"s letter, it must be waiting for you. I reckon it ought to have arrived last night or this morning. And if you find he recommends me as a trustworthy man, will you think the plan over, before you say no?"
"You take my breath away! But--ye-es. I"ll think it over. I suppose one really _can_ do things in America one wouldn"t do _anywhere_ else?"
"That"s why there"s so much emigration," replied Nick, gravely.
"And I should be studying California through you, I suppose? I begin to see that you"re a typical Californian."
"No," Nick contradicted her. "You mustn"t get hold of that impression. It wouldn"t be playing the game for me to let you. The typical Californian"s a very different man: a grand chap, and I reckon more like the sort you"re used to."
Angela smiled. "Describe him."
"Well, I"m not much at description. You"ll meet the kind I mean when you get to San Francisco, if you don"t before. The two Morehouses are the right sort; and lots of others. John Falconer"s one of the best. Have you ever heard of him?"
"Yes," said Angela. "I remember his name. My--friends of mine have spoken of him, though he was younger, and made his fame later."
"I should like you to come across him," said Nick, full of enthusiasm for the man he admired, and devoid of small jealousy. "Falconer was one of the grandest lawyers California ever had; and in a way he made himself, though he came of the best blood we"ve got." (Nick would not have dreamed of mentioning that his own blood was as good. He, like most men of the West, thought more of his horses" pedigree than his own, and he would as readily have boasted of his handsome looks as of his father"s people--the people who had disowned that father, and sent him to starve. But now he was boasting of and for California. That was legitimate.) "Falconer"s the wisest and most far-seeing politician we have," he went on, "and deserves his luck--the money"s he"s made and the name he"s won. He"s high up on one of our biggest railroads, too, since he gave up law because he"d no time to follow it; and he"s not much over forty now. That"s California, Mrs.
May. That"s typical. Falconer"s as different from a rough fellow like me, as--as I hope I"m different from Sealman."
"You"re a loyal friend," Angela said, admiring the fire in his eyes and the glow on his face as she would have admired an impressionist sketch for a portrait by Sargent. "Only this man ought to be a fresco," she told herself as she followed out the picture-simile. "He"s too big and spirited and unconventional to be put into a frame."
"Oh, I"m not a personal friend of Falconer"s," Nick hastened to explain.
"Wish I were! I"ve met him when he"s been to the Gaylor ranch--the ranch I want you to visit. But I expect he"d hardly remember me. And now you see that I"m not typical, maybe you"ll think there"s no place for me on your map. But I have my uses. I"m warranted sure and sound. And wouldn"t I just be ready to die tryin", if you"d let me, to give you the time of your life in California?"
"I"ve always heard that Californian men are chivalrous and kind."
"Oh, kind! That"s a funny word."
"And these plans you draw for me are--are the sort of thing to make a woman feel glad there are men in the world willing to take so much trouble----"
"They"re the sort of thing to make a man glad there are women--or better still, a woman--to work for," he amended, so good to look at in his enthusiasm, that Angela"s eyes would not be banished to the _suede_ bag or to the flowers on the table--Nick"s flowers.
"But," she went on, "but----"
"Don"t say that word to-day," Nick begged. "Whatever you decide afterward, let me take you up to Rubidoux and on to Redlands? Make up your mind about the rest when you"ve seen Mr. Morehouse"s letter."
"Very well," she said. "Just for to-day, the "make-believe" shall come true."
Nick turned away his face lest it should betray him.
"Thank you," he said quietly. "Well, then, I reckon it"s time I went to round up Billy. And we"ll hit the breeze for Rubidoux and Redlands."
They saw the park and the millionaires" houses and the orange-packing, pa.s.sing on the way picturesque little towns, with Indian and Mexican names, which charmed the eyes and ears of Angela. And always the air was sweet with scent of orange-blossoms, roses, and alfalfa, the life of the country. Once, at Redlands, Nick excused himself and jumped out of the car at a shop. He was gone three or four minutes; but when he came back he said nothing of any purchase.
It was only when he was bidding Mrs. May good night at her hotel door that, with a schoolboy air, he pulled a small package out of his pocket.
"Talking of typical Californian things," he said, trying to seem careless, "here"s one. I thought, as it"s only a little bouquet in a bottle--a few flowers distilled--you might accept it. But if you want to give it back, I"ll take it like a lamb. It"s--because you love California--I want you to have it. Don"t open the paper till you get indoors. And you"ll send me word whether you can go along farther in the country of make-believe?"
"Of course. I"ll telephone."
"Early enough for us to start, if--if the answer"s yes?"