Mrs. Eppingwell was a woman of capacity; so, when she turned
Madeline over to her trainers on Thanksgiving Night she was so
transformed that they were almost afraid of her. Prince wrapped a
Hudson Bay blanket about her with a mock reverence more real than
feigned, while Malemute Kid, whose arm she had taken, found it a
severe trial to resume his wonted mentorship. Harrington, with
the list of purchases still running through his head, dragged
along in the rear, nor opened his mouth once all the way down
into the town. When they came to the back door of the Opera House
they took the blanket from Madeline's shoulders and spread it on
the snow. Slipping out of Prince's moccasins, she stepped upon it
in new satin slippers. The masquerade was at its height. She
hesitated, but they jerked open the door and shoved her in. Then
they ran around to come in by the front entrance.
III
'Where is Freda?' the Old-Timers questioned, while the
che-cha-quas were equally energetic in asking who Freda was. The
ballroom buzzed with her name.
It was on everybody's lips. Grizzled 'sour-dough boys,'
day-laborers at the mines but proud of their degree, either
patronized the spruce-looking tenderfeet and lied eloquently--the
'sour-dough boys' being specially created to toy with truth--or
gave them savage looks of indignation because of their ignorance.
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