Hotel clerks are usually quite positive that they know what they are supposed to know about their guests.  This clerk interviewed somebody while Mary V held the line, and later returned to assure her that Mr. Jewel had been seen leaving the lobby the night before, and had not returned.  A strange young gentleman had occupied Mr. Jewel’s room.  No, Mr. Jewel had not been seen since last evening.  The clerk was positive, but since Mary V’s voice was young and feminine, he permitted her to hold the line while he called the night clerk to the ’phone.  The result was disheartening.  Mr. Jewel had brought in a young man, and later had left the hotel.  The young man had gone out very early and neither had returned.  Could he do anything else for her?

Mary V thanked him coldly and hung up the receiver, mentally calling the clerk names that were not flattering.  Why in the world did he keep harping on that one fact that Johnny had gone out and had not come back?  Why didn’t he know where Johnny had gone?  What, for gracious sake, was a hotel clerk for, if not to tell a person what she wanted to know?  The strange young man who had slept in Johnny’s room meant nothing at all to Mary V just then.

She had a dislike of creating unnecessary excitement, but it did seem as though something ought to be done about Johnny.  All her faith was pinned to the fact that he had let her final word stand uncontradicted; he had not told her he would not come.  She went outside and stared for awhile in the direction of Tucson, turning with a little start when her mother spoke just behind her.

“Did Johnny tell you he was coming, Mary V?”

“My goodness, mom!  Of course, he—­well, it was just the same as saying he would.  I told him he had to come and I’d expect him, and he didn’t say he wouldn’t.  Why, for gracious sake, do you suppose I went and fixed his din—­dinner—?” Mary V gulped down a sob she had not suspected was present.

“Well, there, now, don’t cry about it.  You’ll have plenty better reasons to cry after you’re married to him.  Seems to me the boy’s changed considerable, if he comes and goes at the crook of your finger, Mary V. Johnny’s most as stubborn as you be, if I’m any judge.  If I was in your place, Mary V, I’d ’phone and find out if he’s started, before I commenced crying because he was late.”

“I did ’phone.  And he wasn’t at the hotel—­”

“Land sakes, child, I heard you!  You might as well have asked what the weather was like.  If I was you I’d ask if his airplane is there.  If it is, there’s no sense in you straining your eyes looking for it.  If it ain’t, he’s likely on the way somewhere.  But from what I heard of your talk last night, and from what I know about Johnny—­”

“For pity’s sake, mom!  If you listened in—­”

“There now, Mary V, you shouldn’t object to your own mother overhearing anything you’ve got to say.  And if you expect me to clap my hands over my cars and start on a long lope across the desert the minute you begin to ’phone—­”