“Then I know what I’d like to send; it’s a hat I tried on this morning.  A nice taupe—­that’s about the color of that sage-brush country over there and won’t show the dust—­and it’s trimmed with just one stunning plume the same shade and a wreath of the tiniest pink French roses set under the velvet brim.  It looked like it was made for me, but twelve and a half is my limit and it’s twenty-five dollars.  Maybe you don’t want to go that high.”

Banks untied the poke and poured the remaining gold pieces on the show-case; then he found a pocket-book from which he took several crisp bills.  “There’s three hundred,” he said briefly, “and another ten for the trunk.  I want you to pick out a nice little one I can stow in the back of a one-seated automobile.  The hat and this pink dress go on top; and be sure you get the outfit down to that four-ten train.  Good-by,” he put out his hand, and a gleam of warmth touched his bleak face.  “I’m glad I met you.”

“And so am I. Good-by.”  She stopped gathering up the money long enough to give him her hand.  “And good luck,” she added.

The first saleswoman, again at leisure, approached and stood looking after him as he hurried with his quick, uneven steps towards the elevator.  “Of all things!” she exclaimed.  “He did buy that pink chiffon.  Who’d ever have thought he had the money or the taste.  But I suppose he’s one of those lucky fellows who’ve struck it rich in Alaska.”

The other young woman nodded.  “His gold came out of one of those pokes, and it’s fresh from the mint.  But I guess he’s earned all he’s got, every cent.  I’ll bet he’s starved and froze; suffered ways we don’t know.  And he’s spending it on a girl.  I’d like to see her.  Maybe she’s the cold-blooded kind that’ll snub him and make fun of this chiffon.”

She turned into the dressing-room, and it was then Banks stopped and brought out the loose change in his pockets.  There was a ten dollar piece, to which he added two and a half in silver.  He started back up the room, but the girl had disappeared, and, while he stood hesitating, a floor-walker approached.

“Have you forgotten something?” he asked politely.

“Yes,” answered Banks, “I forgot to give this money to the young lady who was waiting on me.  She’s likely gone to take off a pink dress I bought.  But she’s the one with lots of black hair and pink cheeks and a real nice smile; you couldn’t miss her.  And you might as well give her this; tell her it’s the other twelve and a half to make up the price of that hat; a duplicate of the one we were talking about.  She’ll understand.”

He called these final words over his shoulder, for the elevator had stopped, and he hurried to catch it.  Going down, he looked at his watch; he had spent an hour buying that dress.  But on the lower floor he noticed a telephone booth and saw a way to make up the time.

“Hello!” he called, pitching his voice to a treble.  “This is Banks, the miner you was trying to talk into buying that little red car last week; roadster I think you said ’twas.  Well, I want you to fire up and run down to the Rainier-Grand quick as you can.”