"How's Carla?" the husband asked.
"Carla's well, and just now deeply interested in the Y.M. and Y.W.C.A. work."
Here Carla herself appeared, and joined in the welcome home. She was the picture of wholesome content.
While they were talking, there was a sound of wheels again. The wagon stopped, a young man jerked out a trunk, paid the driver, and ran towards the veranda. How happy he seemed!
"It's Wathemah," all cried, hastening to meet him. The sprite was in advance, with arms outstretched.
"I guess you don't reco'nize me," she said. "I'm your little sister."
He laughed, stooped and lifted her in his arms, and kissed her several times.
Then came Esther's turn. At the same time, Kenneth enfolded Wathemah. Then came Carla, whom Wathemah kissed as he used to do in childhood days, and laughingly repeated a question he was accustomed to ask her then—"Is my face clean, Carla?"
And all laughed and talked of the days when they had found one another, of the Claytons and Jack Harding, and Patrick Murphy and his family, and the Rosses and Carmichaels, and the changes that had taken place in Gila since they left there.
"I was so sorry to hear of Mr. Clayton's death," said Wathemah. "What a great-hearted man he was! Such a generous friend! Do you suppose Mrs. Clayton and Edith will ever come back to America?"