Angela saw this silent play of weapons, and all her sympathy was with the stranger in dusty blue alpaca.  She busied herself mentally in rearranging the little woman’s hair, dressing her in such a way as to make her quite pretty and young-looking, and had not finished the operation when a hotel clerk appeared with a paper in his hand.

“Your name, please,” he said to the small, unaccompanied person.

“My name is Sara Wilkins,” she replied in a clear precise voice, which matched her personality; “but I must tell you that I am not a Native Daughter, and have not engaged a room.  I arrived at the same time with the others, and when they are settled I hope you’ll be able to find me something; otherwise I hardly know what I shall do, as it’s late, and I’m travelling alone.”

“I’m afraid I can do nothing for you, Madam, if you have not engaged,” said the young man, civilly.  “These ladies are expected, and a great many will be sleeping three and four in a room.  I’m sorry; but there are other hotels in the town.”

“I’m sorry too,” said the lady in the dusty alpaca.  “I’ve wanted for years to stay in this hotel, if it was only for a few hours, as I’ve read so much about it, and I arranged to stop off at Santa Barbara on purpose, though I really ought to have gone on.  And I’m so tired!”

Angela could bear no more.  “Oh, would you take my sitting-room?” she asked, with the smile she had inherited with her heart and a few other things from Franklin Merriam.  “It would be such a shame to go away when you’ve wanted to stop here—­so late, too, and you mightn’t get in anywhere else.  I shall be delighted—­really—­and I’m sure they can make you up a comfortable bed, for there’s a big lounge in the room.”

Nick sat adoring her with his eyes, and Miss Dene believed that Mrs. May had made the offer to please him and Falconer.  Men were very silly and sentimental about such things.  But as she, Theo, had no sitting-room of her own they could not blame her for selfishness.

Miss Wilkins looked at Angela with her intelligent gray eyes.  “Why, that’s very kind of you,” she said.  “I don’t like to take your room——­”

“But you must like it, or you’ll spoil my pleasure,” Angela broke in, looking so charming in her wish to make the little dusty person happy that few women and no men could have resisted, or helped believing in her.  It was at this moment that Falconer determined to tell Mrs. May something about certain private interests of his at Paso Robles, which he had not intended to mention.

“Well, I will take the room, then, and I will like it, too,” returned Miss Wilkins.  “I don’t know how to thank you enough.”

“I’m giving up nothing that I shall mind doing without,” said Angela; and did not dream that she had stirred the deep water under which a golden key lay hid; the key of that island palace in the uncharted sea of the future.