He hurried away then, laughing his shrillest key, and Annabel laid the pink chiffon back in the tray to follow him to the door.  She stood smiling, though the mist alternately gathered and cleared in her eyes, watching him up the vale and waiting to see him reappear on the front of the bench.  But he found her ready when he returned; and the hat was becoming beyond her hopes.  It brought back in a measure the old brightness that was half a challenge in her air, so that, to the mining man, she seemed to have gone back, almost, those lost years.  Still, his satisfaction was tempered, and instantly she understood the cause.  “The roses seemed enough pink today,” she said tactfully, “till I wear off some of this tan.  But I like this tan cloth awful well, don’t you?  It’s a nice color for out-of-doors and won’t show the dust.  And doesn’t it fit perfectly splendid?  And look at these shoes.  I don’t see how you remembered my size.  You’ve thought of everything.  There’s even an automobile veil.  A lady that came out here with Mr. Tisdale had one about the same shade.  But you’ll have to help me put it on so I won’t spoil this plume.”

She pushed the pongee coat, which was carefully folded across the back of a chair, a little aside and, seating herself before the mirror, reached to take the scarf and exposed a folded paper on the dresser.  “I found that envelope pinned inside the hat,” she said still diplomatically, though a touch of humor shaded her lips.  “There’s a ten dollar piece in it and two and a half in silver.  Probably it’s your change.”

But Banks turned the envelope and read pencilled across the front:  “There isn’t any duplicate, but thanks just the same.”

CHAPTER XX

KERNEL AND PEACH

After that little wedding journey down in Oregon, Banks returned to Seattle to engage a crew for the first step to reclamation; combining pleasure with business, he brought Annabel and registered at the New Washington Hotel.  And here Daniels, detailed to learn something in regard to the Iditarod strike where, it was rumored, the Morgansteins were negotiating for the miner’s valuable holdings, finally traced him.

“Sure we have a Banks of Alaska with us,” the clerk responded, smiling, and turned the page to show the Press representative the strained, left-handed signature.  “He’s a sawed-off specimen with a face like a peachstone; but he said if he put down his regular name, the boys likely would miss his trail.”

“Mrs. Annabel Green Banks Hesperides Vale,” read Jimmie.

“Lucky Banks Iditarod and Hesperides Vale.

“This looks like my man, sure; but who is Mrs. Green-Banks?  His wife or mother?”

“Bride,” the clerk replied laconically.  “It’s a sort of overdue honeymoon.  But she’s rather smart looking; fine eyes and tall enough to make up for him.  They’re a pair.”

“I see.  Kernel and peach.  But Hesperides Vale,” Daniels went on thoughtfully.  “Why, that’s in the new fruit belt over near Wenatchee, my old stamping-ground.”