Her telephone rang, and she went over and took down the receiver.  “Mrs. Weatherbee,” she said, and after a moment.  “Yes.  Please send him up.”

The bell-boy had left the door ajar, and she heard the elevator when it stopped at her floor; a quick, nervous step sounded along the corridor, the door swung wider to some draught, and a short, wiry man, with a weather-beaten face, paused on the threshold.  “I am Lucky Banks,” he said simply, taking off his hat.  “Mr. Tisdale asked me to see you got this bundle.”

Involuntarily her glance rested on the hand that held the package in the curve of his arm, and she suppressed a shiver; the dread that the young and physically perfect always betray at the sight of deformity sprang to her eyes.  “Thank you for troubling,” she said, then, having taken the bundle, she waited to close the door.

But Banks was in no hurry.  “It wasn’t any trouble, my, no,” he replied.  “I was glad of the chance.  It’s a little bunch of stuff that was Dave’s.  And likely I’d have come up, anyhow,” he added, “to inquire about a tract of land you own east of the mountains.  I heard you talked of selling.”

Instantly her face brightened.  “Yes.  But come in, will you not?” She turned and placed the package on the table, and took one of two chairs near the alcove.  The azalea was so near that its vivid flowers seemed to cast a reflection on her cheeks.  “I presume you mean my tract in the Wenatchee Mountains?” she went on engagingly.  “A few miles above Hesperides Vale.”

“Well, yes.”  Banks seated himself on the edge of the other chair and held his hat so as to conceal the maimed hand.  “I didn’t know you had but one piece.  It’s up among the benches and takes in a kind of pocket.  It’s off the line of irrigation, but if the springs turn out what I expect, it ought to be worth sixty dollars an acre.  And I want an option on the whole tract for ten thousand.”

“Ten thousand dollars?” Her voice fluted incredulously.  “But I am afraid I don’t understand exactly what an option is.  Please explain, Mr. Banks.”

“Why, it’s this way.  I pay something down, say about three thousand, and you agree to let the sale rest for well, say six months, while I prospect the ground and see how it is likely to pan out.  Afterwards, if I fail to buy, I naturally forfeit the bonus and all improvements.”

“I see,” she said slowly.  “I see.  But—­you know it is wild land; you have been over the ground?”

“Not exactly, but I know the country, and I’ve talked with a man I can bank on, my, yes.”

“How soon”—­she began, then, covering her eagerness, said:  “I agree to your option, Mr. Banks.”

He laid his hat on the floor and took out his billbook, in which he found two printed blanks, filled according to his terms and ready for her signature.  “I thought likely we could close the deal right up, ma’am, so’s I could catch the Wenatchee train this afternoon.  Your name goes here above mine.”