Hilliard is here now, and willing
to show me what I ought to see. I'm afraid I seemed to repay his kindness
by being rude to him at Paso Robles. After San Francisco, he volunteers to
be my 'trail guide' through the Yosemite Valley, and if I put off that
trip too long I mayn't get so good a guide. Mr. Morehouse has advised me
to take him, and says these things are done in this Western World, where
gossip is blown away like mist by the winds that sweep through the Golden
Gate. Besides, why should any one gossip? There is no cause; and I am
nobody, and known to few. I'm not worth gossiping about! But I wonder if
you'll ever again invite me to Rushing River Camp? I hardly dare expect
it. Yet I hope!"
Already Mrs. Gaylor had been invited, and had accepted; but Angela was not
thinking of Mrs. Gaylor at the moment, and she was doing her best to keep
Nick's thoughts from his "boss's widow." He and "Mrs. May" went about San
Francisco together like two children on a holiday.
The place was a surprise to Angela. Her father's stories had pictured for
her a strange, wild city, of many wooden houses, a tangle of steep streets
running up hill and down dale, a few great mansions, a thousand or more
acres of park in the making. But the San Francisco which he had known as a
boy had greatly changed, even before the fire.
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