The store, which had been a surprise and a novelty at first, began to be a trial to her.  It wore upon her nerves.  The air was bad, and the crowds were great.  It was coming on toward Christmas time, and the store was crammed to bursting day after day and night after night, for they kept open evenings now until Christmas.  Elizabeth longed for a breath from the mountains, and grew whiter and thinner.  Sometimes she felt as if she must break away from it all, and take Robin, and ride into the wilderness again.  If it were not for the Christian Endeavor, she would have done so, perhaps.

Robin, poor beast, was well housed and well fed; but he worked for his living as did his mistress.  He was a grocer’s delivery horse, worked from Monday morning early till Saturday night at ten o’clock, subject to curses and kicks from the grocery boy, expected to stand meekly at the curbstones, snuffing the dusty brick pavements while the boy delivered a box of goods, and while trolleys and beer-wagons and automobiles slammed and rumbled and tooted by him, and then to start on the double-quick to the next stopping-place.

He to be thus under the rod who had trod the plains with a free foot and snuffed the mountain air!  It was a great come-down, and his life became a weariness to him.  But he earned his mistress a dollar a week besides his board.  There would have been some consolation in that to his faithful heart if he only could have known it.  Albeit she would have gladly gone without the dollar if Robin could have been free and happy.

One day, one dreadful day, the manager of the ten-cent store came to Elizabeth with a look in his eyes that reminded her of the man in Montana from whom she had fled.  He was smiling, and his words were unduly pleasant.  He wanted her to go with him to the theatre that evening, and he complimented her on her appearance.  He stated that he admired her exceedingly, and wanted to give her pleasure.  But somehow Elizabeth had fallen into the habit ever since she left the prairies of comparing all men with George Trescott Benedict; and this man, although he dressed well, and was every bit as handsome, did not compare well.  There was a sinister, selfish glitter in his eyes that made Elizabeth think of the serpent on the plain just before she shot it.  Therefore Elizabeth declined the invitation.

It happened that there was a missionary meeting at the church that evening.  All the Christian Endeavorers had been urged to attend.  Elizabeth gave this as an excuse; but the manager quickly swept that away, saying she could go to church any night, but she could not go to this particular play with him always.  The girl eyed him calmly with much the same attitude with which she might have pointed her pistol at his head, and said gravely,

“But I do not want to go with you.”