That night the little frail body grew suddenly too tired to
struggle further, and Georgia's exit was made from the great stage
when she had scarcely begun to speak her little piece before the
footlights. But there must be a stage manager who understands. She
had given the cue to the one who was to speak after her.
A week after she was laid away, the Commissioner reappeared at the
office, a little more courteous, a little paler and sterner, with the
black frock-coat hanging a little more loosely from his tall figure.
His desk was piled with work that had accumulated during the four
heartbreaking weeks of his absence. His chief clerk had done what he
could, but there were questions of law, of fine judicial decisions
to be made concerning the issue of patents, the marketing and
leasing of school lands, the classification into grazing,
agricultural, watered, and timbered, of new tracts to be opened to
settlers.
The Commissioner went to work silently and obstinately, putting
back his grief as far as possible, forcing his mind to attack the
complicated and important business of his office. On the second day
after his return he called the porter, pointed to a leather-covered
chair that stood near his own, and ordered it removed to a lumber-room
at the top of the building.
Pages:
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259