It sat almost against the stone cliff,
from which poured a white foamy sheet of water. The house was built of
slabs with the bark on, and it had a lower and upper porch running all
around, at least as far as the cliff. Green growths from the rock wall
overhung the upper porch. A column of blue smoke curled lazily upward from
a stone chimney. On one of the porch posts hung a sign with rude lettering:
"Lolomi Lodge."
"Hey, Josh, did you fetch the flour?" called a woman's voice from inside.
"Hullo I Reckon I didn't forgit nothin'," replied the man, as he got down.
"An' say, Mrs. Hutter, hyar's a young lady from Noo Yorrk."
That latter speech of the driver's brought Mrs. Hutter out on the porch.
"Flo, come here," she called to some one evidently near at hand. And then
she smilingly greeted Carley.
"Get down an' come in, miss," she said. "I'm sure glad to see you."
Carley, being stiff and cold, did not very gracefully disengage herself
from the high muddy wheel and step. When she mounted to the porch she saw
that Mrs. Hutter was a woman of middle age, rather stout, with strong face
full of fine wavy lines, and kind dark eyes.
"I'm Miss Burch," said Carley.
"You're the girl whose picture Glenn Kilbourne has over his fireplace,"
declared the woman, heartily.
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