“You dear girl—I’m so glad!” cried Mrs. Hutter, her voice trembling.
“I’m glad to see you, too,” said Carley, bending to receive Mrs. Hutter’s embrace. Carley saw dim eyes—the stress of agitation, but no surprise.
“Oh, Carley!” burst out the Western girl, with voice rich and full, yet tremulous.
“Flo, I’ve come to wish you happiness,” replied Carley, very low.
Was it the same Flo? This seemed more of a woman—strange now—white and strained—beautiful, eager, questioning. A cry of gladness burst from her. Carley felt herself enveloped in strong close clasp—and then a warm, quick kiss of joy. It shocked her, yet somehow thrilled. Sure was the welcome here. Sure was the strained situation, also, but the voice rang too glad a note for Carley. It touched her deeply, yet she could not understand. She had not measured the depth of Western friendship.
“Have you—seen Glenn?” queried Flo, breathlessly.
“Oh no, indeed not,” replied Carley, slowly gaining composure. The nervous agitation of these women had stilled her own. “I just rode up the trail. Where is he?”
“He was here—a moment ago,” panted Flo. “Oh, Carley, we sure are locoed. ... Why, we only heard an hour ago—that you were at Deep Lake.... Charley rode in. He told us.... I thought my heart would break. Poor Glenn! When he heard it.... But never mind me. Jump your horse and run to West Fork!”
The spirit of her was like the strength of her arms as she hurried Carley across the porch and shoved her down the steps.
“Climb on and run, Carley,” cried Flo. “If you only knew how glad he’ll be that you came!”