t plain daughter,
who looked after the accounts. There were occasional lady visitors at
the hotel, attracted from the neighboring towns and settlements by
its picturesqueness and a vague suggestiveness of its being a
watering-place--and there was the occasional flash in the decorous
street of a Sacramento or San Francisco gown. It is needless to say that
to the five men who held the guilty secret of Committee Room No. 4 it
only strengthened their belief in the super-elegance of their hidden
treasure. At their last meeting they had fitted the second dress--which
turned out to be a vapory summer house-frock or morning wrapper--over
the dummy, and opinions were divided as to its equality with the first.
However, the same subtle harmony of detail and grace of proportion
characterized it.

"And you see," said Clint Grey, "it's jest the sort o' rig in which a
man would be most likely to know her--and not in her war-paint, which
would be only now and then."

Already "SHE" had become an individuality!

"Hush!" said the president. He had turned towards the door, at which
some one was knocking lightly.

"Come in."

The door opened upon Miss Marsh, secretary and hotel assistant. She had
a business aspect, and an open letter in her hand, but hesitated at
the evident confusion she had occasioned. Two of the gentlemen had
absolutely blushed, and the others regarded her with inane smiles or
affected seriousness. They all coughed slightly.

"I beg your pardon," she said, not ungracefully, a slight color coming
into her sallow cheek, which, in conjunction with the gold eye-glasses,
gave her, at least in the eyes of the impressible Clint, a certain
piquancy. "But my father said you were here in committee and I might
consult you. I can come again, if you are busy."

She had addressed the president, partly from his office, his
comparatively extreme age--he must have been at least thirty!--and
possibly for his extremer good looks. He said hurriedly, "It's just an
informal meeting;" and then, more politely, "What can we do for you?"

"We have an application for a suite of rooms next week," she said,
referring to the letter, "and as we shall be rather full, father thought
you gentlemen might be willing to take another larger room for your
meetings, and give up these, which are part of a suite--and perhaps not
exactly suitable"--

"Quite impossible!" "Quite so!" "Really out of the question," said the
members, in a rapid chorus.