“And now, don’t you think, Mr. Bray,” she added demurely, “that you had better let me fill my pail again while you go round to the front door and call upon me properly?”

“But your father”—­

“My father, as a well-known investor, regrets exceedingly that he did not make your acquaintance more thoroughly in his late brief interview.  He is, as your foreman knows, exceedingly interested in the mines on Eureka ledge.  He will be glad if you will call.”  She led him to a little door in the wall, which she unbolted.  “And now ‘Jill’ must say good-by to ‘Jack,’ for she must make herself ready to receive a Mr. Bray who is expected.”

And when Bray a little later called at the front door, he was respectfully announced.  He called another day, and many days after.  He came frequently to San Francisco, and one day did not return to his old partners.  He had entered into a new partnership with one who he declared “had made the first strike on Eureka mountain.”

MR. BILSON’S HOUSEKEEPER

I

When Joshua Bilson, of the Summit House, Buckeye Hill, lost his wife, it became necessary for him to take a housekeeper to assist him in the management of the hotel.  Already all Buckeye had considered this a mere preliminary to taking another wife, after a decent probation, as the relations of housekeeper and landlord were confidential and delicate, and Bilson was a man, and not above female influence.  There was, however, some change of opinion on that point when Miss Euphemia Trotter was engaged for that position.  Buckeye Hill, which had confidently looked forward to a buxom widow or, with equal confidence, to the promotion of some pretty but inefficient chambermaid, was startled by the selection of a maiden lady of middle age, and above the medium height, at once serious, precise, and masterful, and to all appearances outrageously competent.  More carefully “taking stock” of her, it was accepted she had three good points,—­dark, serious eyes, a trim but somewhat thin figure, and well-kept hands and feet.  These, which in so susceptible a community would have been enough, in the words of one critic, “to have married her to three men,” she seemed to make of little account herself, and her attitude toward those who were inclined to make them of account was ceremonious and frigid.  Indeed, she seemed to occupy herself entirely with looking after the servants, Chinese and Europeans, examining the bills and stores of traders and shopkeepers, in a fashion that made her respected and—­feared.  It was whispered, in fact, that Bilson stood in awe of her as he never had of his wife, and that he was “henpecked in his own farmyard by a strange pullet.”

Nevertheless, he always spoke of her with a respect and even a reverence that seemed incompatible with their relative positions.  It gave rise to surmises more or less ingenious and conflicting:  Miss Trotter had a secret interest in the hotel, and represented a San Francisco syndicate; Miss Trotter was a woman of independent property, and had advanced large sums to Bilson; Miss Trotter was a woman of no property, but she was the only daughter of—­variously—­a late distinguished nobleman, a ruined millionaire, and a foreign statesman, bent on making her own living.