"I hope I
shall not disappoint you. . . . Yes, I do want to improve my appearance
before Glenn sees me. . . . Is there any way I can send word to him--by
someone who has not seen me?"
"There shore is. I'll send Charley, one of our hired boys."
"Thank you. Then tell him to say there is a lady here from New York to see
him, and it is very important."
Flo Hutter clapped her hands and laughed with glee. Her gladness gave
Carley a little twinge of conscience. Jealously was an unjust and stifling
thing.
Carley was conducted up a broad stairway and along a boarded hallway to a
room that opened out on the porch. A steady low murmur of falling water
assailed her ears. Through the open door she saw across the porch to a
white tumbling lacy veil of water falling, leaping, changing, so close that
it seemed to touch the heavy pole railing of the porch.
This room resembled a tent. The sides were of canvas. It had no ceiling.
But the roughhewn shingles of the roof of the house sloped down closely.
The furniture was home made. An Indian rug covered the floor. The bed with
its woolly clean blankets and the white pillows looked inviting.
"Is this where Glenn lay--when he was sick?" queried Carley.
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