Page:Restless Earth.djvu/150

They actually suffered the indignity of perspiration, and one pious lady once so far forgot her piety as to use a profane expression.

Mr. Percival Langham and Patricia alone put all their energies into the work willingly. An unspoken alliance existed between them. They understood each other.

“Aren’t you rather neglecting your business?” Patricia asked him, as she held up an end of a shelf while he nailed it in position.

“Oh, no,” he answered lightly. “My business is to assure fair play for my clients—and my friends.”

He glanced at her as he said the last words. Patricia smiled in reply.

Mrs. Langham observed the glance and the smile, and grew more sulky than ever. She could not bring herself to speak at all, merely endorsing Patricia’s curt orders with an affirmative nod. She would have liked to tear the impertinent creature limb from limb in these laborious hours, and was convinced that her old friends held the same idea behind their outraged and sweating brows. As for Langham———! She would have a few words to say to him, later.

The next morning, the third after the earthquake, Mrs. Langham’s attitude had changd. She was her old, bright, commanding self when she entered the depot shortly after nine o’clock. She was accompanied by her husband, who wore his customary deferential air and trailed meekly behind her.

She was surprised to see the whole committee already assembled. Her old friends were not early-risers as a rule, but, of course, her own position demanded the sacrifice of her “beauty sleep” at this time.

Only Patricia worked. The others seemed to await orders.

Patricia was in no mood to give orders this morning. Grace and Joan Harley had been listed with the dead in the Herald of the previous evening and,