“Bless my soul, Leslie! what does this mean? Well, well! so it was my little girl after all, up to her old tricks; but, child, how came you out here, in such a place as this?”
At that moment, Houston or Rutherford would scarcely have recognized Miss Gladden, could they have seen her seated beside Mr. Winters with all the careless abandon of a child, laughing merrily in answer to his numerous questions, while he playfully pinched her cheek, or pulled her ear. To Mr. Winters, however, she seemed like one of his own children, for Leslie Gladden was an orphan, and Mr. and Mrs. Winters, having been deeply attached to her parents, and having no daughter of their own, had always regarded her as a daughter, and much of her life had been passed in their home.
“Well, puss,” said Mr. Winters, having answered her inquiries regarding his family, “seems to me it’s about time you gave an account of yourself; what are you doing here? and what have you been doing since last Easter? and where are Helen and her husband?”
“One question at a time, if you please, sir,” said Miss Gladden.
“That’s right, giving the old man orders, as usual; we always spoiled you, Leslie. Well, in the first place, what possessed you to leave us in the way you did? We understood you had gone to spend Easter with Helen; and the next we heard, Helen wrote her sister that they were going to spend the summer traveling in the west, and that you were to accompany them.”
“I will explain that a little later; what is the next in order?”
“Is Helen here with you?”
“No, sir, she and George are in Denver.”
“And who is stopping here with you?”
“No one; do you think I need a guardian, or a chaperon?”