“What neem, sir?”
“Guess, Colonel, you have me there!”
“What neem shall I enounce?”
“My name? Oh, I tumble! Jest you say Grizzly Dick of Shasta!”
The man called up the staircase to another footman half way up:
“Mis-tar Greezly Dick of Shost-ar!”
The second man called on to another, at the door of the drawingroom:
“Mr. Greazy Dick of Shostar!”
And the latter shouted the name into the room, in a Hibernian accent:
“Misther Crazy Dick Shostoo!”
Dick was for an instant amazed by the wilderness of strange faces, the myriad lights, the hum and movement of the scene; and as for Mrs. Elstree and Esse, they were for a moment ignorant of the personality of their visitor. The Dick who now stood blinking in the doorway, and awkwardly shuffling his feet, had little resemblance, except in stature, to the Dick whom they had known on Shasta.
When the time for his visit to San Francisco was ripe, Dick had come as far as Sacramento, and had then prepared himself for what he considered a fashionable visit. This he did by getting himself up as like as he could to the more aristocratic-looking of the Two Macs, as that individual had dwelt in his memory, combined with the most stylish of gamblers and barmen, from living examples. His general effect was enhanced by the failure of the goods exhibited in the various tailors’ shops, and “misfit parlors” to adapt themselves to the great bulk and free, sinuous carriage of the hunter. Dick had thus arrayed himself in a blue claw-hammer coat with brass buttons, a low-cut waistcoat of mighty pattern, in plaid of many colours, in which primary shades of scarlet, yellow, and blue, predominated, a light pair of yellow cord trousers, of preternatural tightness, and enormous patent leather pumps, which were all too small to be easy on feet accustomed to mocassins. His shirt was what far-western salesmen call “dressy,” and exhibited on its bosom many rows of fancy pleating with, between them, masses of herring-bone handwork, such as the rustic maiden is wont to exhibit on her Sunday petticoat. A red tie with big bows and fringed ends, and some massive gold studs of fancy pattern, to match the watch chain, which lay across his diaphragm like a hawser, completed his toilet. But Dick, not feeling complete, even in this subjugatory attire, had been to the barber’s and undergone a process of curling, oiling, and scenting, which alone would have isolated him in any high-bred society throughout the world. Add to these disadvantages a manner composed of equal parts of unchastened ease of gait and shy awkwardness, and it is little wonder that the ladies did not at once recognise their old friend the free-gaited, bold, natural child of the mountains. Esse was the first to recognise him, and stepping forward, held out both her hands with eager welcome, utterly forgetting, in the surprise of seeing him, her previous anxiety as to his possible coming. At the moment, however, Dick had recognised Mrs. Elstree and had stepped forward and taken her by the hand, and was beginning to work the pump-handle shake, which she already knew, and dreaded. This peculiar shake of Dick’s was a work of time, and Mrs. Elstree knew that the best way to get over it was to submit quietly; she was not sorry also, to have a moment in which to collect her thoughts, for it flashed on her that so strange an appearance, and so unexpected a coming, must have some special cause. She had a half fear that there was some trouble in store for Esse, or with her; and as she knew that the eyes of all fashionable San Francisco were on her, she felt that it behoved her to be cautious. She instantly determined on a course of action — heartiness. Dick was an unconventional person, and when the guests knew and realised who and what he was, the manifest surprise and amazement with which they were already regarding him would cease. He had saved Esse’s life, and she had saved his, and under very strange and unusual circumstances. This alone would justify his appearance, and any reception that might be accorded to him. So she said effusively:
“Why, Mr. Grizzly Dick, this is a treat! I am delighted to see you in San Francisco! Do you make a long stay?”
In the meantime Esse stood with outstretched hands, for she did not like to draw them back, lest Dick should think she was offended, and so waited. Before Dick could reply to her mother he saw them, and answering: “Thank ye, marm!” turned to Esse and said:
“Wall, Little Missy, if this ain’t jest the all-firedest, highest old time as ever was. My! but ye look purty; like a ripe apple ready to be bit. An’ do ye remember the b’ar, and the way yer frock was tore all away? Durn me if the old-man grizzly was here himself now, he wouldn’t have the heart to lay a claw on ye!”
As he spoke he had taken her hand, and was subjecting her in turn to the pump-handle ordeal. Esse answered with what heartiness she could muster, for there was a look in Dick’s eye, a sort of assuring her, which was quite new to her, and which made her anxious as to what might happen. She would have given worlds that her mother knew the exact state of affairs, for she could and would have helped her at any cost; but her mother did not know, and she must now trust to Providence and the chapter of accidents. In the meantime, other guests were arriving, and they both had to receive them. Mrs. Elstree saw so much of the difficulty as that Dick would become a nuisance if he did not pass on with the rest, so she said sweetly:
“Won’t you take a seat for a few minutes, Mr. Dick? Esse and I have to stand here a little while to receive our guests; but we shall come to you very soon.”
Dick laughed his boisterous laugh — how Esse felt at the moment that she disliked it — which more than ever attracted all eyes to him, and with a rough bow and a “Count on me, marm, every time!” withdrew to the other end of the room. Feeling thoroughly awkward in such a novel situation, he began to make up for his want of savoir faire by brazen impudence, this being his idea of easy deportment.
At this time, Peter Blyth arrived at the house, and went upstairs to his room to dress himself for the evening.
Chapter 9
It was some little time before either Mrs. Elstree or Esse could get an opportunity of rejoining Dick. The news of Esse’s engagement had got about, and all her friends made a point of coming round to offer good wishes. The stream seemed to Esse as if it would never end, for with each moment her anxiety grew. Those who have not experienced it cannot understand the rapidity with which a desire for a few moments’ thought grows, until it becomes a sort of agony. Esse was in a way chained to the social stake. She had to stay by her mother, to smile, and give her whole thoughts to what was going on around her. She would have given anything to have had time to warn her mother, or Reginald, to take care of Dick, and find out his purpose; for all the time unconscious cerebration was working, and she was rapidly coming to the conclusion that Peter Blyth’s message had gone, and that Dick’s presence was an answer to it. Reginald saw with the eyes of love her anxiety, but could do nothing to allay it; he, too, was chained to the stake by the exceptional circumstances of his social duty. Presently they heard a loud laugh in the room behind them, followed by a titter of feminine voices, and a louder laugh from men. Esse felt her ears burning. Her mother shot a quick glance at her and said sotto voce:
“Never mind, dear, we shall be able to attend to him in a few moments; I see the stream is slackening.”
A few minutes more and the last of the guests, except stragglers, had arrived, and they were free to move about. Esse went off to look for Dick, for she felt that he was safest with her, and that she was safest too, for she did not know what he might not do or say in his strange surroundings. She found him in the midst of a group of the smartest young people in San Francisco society. Poor Dick in his ignorance thought he was getting on capitally, for in the society in which he had hitherto mixed the person who caused the loudest laughter was most esteemed of the company. He had with his native taste and daring selected out the prettiest girl in the room, one who though ostensibly one of Esse’s “dearest friends” yet bore her no good will since it had been apparent to her that Reginald Hampden, upon whom she had set her heart, was in love with her friend. The recent knowledge of their engagement was gall