Back in the cabin she luxuriated, exulted in the fact that she would be alone all day.  She piled high the fire with logs, and threw herself in an easy chair.  Thus she could dream undisturbed, could lie watching the leaping flames and vision for herself again that fair, regular, serene face, that tall, strong, slender figure.  She counted the hours until she should see him again, until she should dance for him, for it was for him, him alone, that she would dance.

Thus she passed the greater part of the day, and even resented the intrusion upon her thoughts when her father returned a little earlier than usual from the mine.

“I got a telegram from Bob to-day,” he said.  “All that was in it was, ‘Coming up to see Pearl dance to-night.’”

“What!” she cried, showing her dismay.  “What is he doing that for?”

“What he says, I suppose,” returned Gallito, “to see you dance.”

She frowned vexedly, but said nothing.

Her father spoke again.  “How are you going down?  You will not walk with Bob and Hugh, Mrs. Nitschkan and Mrs. Thomas?”

“No,” she answered carelessly, although a deeper crimson showed in her cheek.  “Mr. Seagreave said last night that he would take me down in his cart.”

Gallito nodded, apparently satisfied, and as Jose came in then to prepare supper, the matter was dropped.

As for Pearl, her vexation of the moment was gone; it could have no place in her mood of exaltation, and when, a few minutes later, she greeted Bob Flick, he thought that he had never seen her more gay.  All through supper, too, her mood of gayety continued, but immediately after that meal she drew Flick aside.

“Bob, I want to tell you something,” she said.  “No use Hughie, nor Pop, nor any of the rest of them knowing anything about it,” she hesitated a moment, “but Hanson came up to-day.”

There was no change in his impassive face, only a leap of hard light in his eyes, and yet she knew that he was on guard in a moment.  “Hanson?”

“Yes, and I saw him for a few moments,” she lifted candid eyes to his, “and, honest, Bob, it’s all over.  I never expect to see him again, and I never want to.”

He looked at her, as if trying to read her soul.  “Say, Pearl, what is this,” he asked, “straight?”

“It’s what I’m telling you,” she looked back at him, nodding emphatically, and then her face broke into a smile, her sweetest, her most alluring smile.  “Say, Bob, I got to thank you for a good many things, not to speak of these,” she touched the emeralds under her gown; “but the biggest thing you’ve ever done for me yet was to keep me from running away with Hanson.”

Her sincerity was undoubted, and a flush of pleasure rose on his cheek, and a light came into his eyes which only she could bring there.  He pressed her hands warmly, looking embarrassed and yet delighted.  “You never said anything in all your life, Pearl, that ever pleased me like that.”