e 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.

"Yes," replied Flo, gravely, and a shadow darkened her eyes. "I ought to
tell you all about it. I will some day. But you must not be made unhappy
now.... Glenn nearly died here. Mother or I never left his side--for a
while there--when life was so bad."

She showed Carley how to open the little stove and put the short billets
of wood inside and work the damper; and cautioning her to keep an eye on
it so that it would not get too hot, she left Carley to herself.

Carley found herself in an unfamiliar mood. There came a leap of her
heart every time she thought of the meeting with Glenn, so soon now
to be, but it was not that which was unfamiliar. She seemed to have a
difficult approach to undefined and unusual thoughts. All this was
so different from her regular life. Besides she was tired. But these
explanations did not suffice. There was a pang in her breast which must
owe its origin to the fact that Glenn Kilbourne had been ill in this
little room and some other girl than Carley Burch had nursed him. "Am I
jealous?" she whispered. "No!" But she knew in her heart that she lied.
A woman could no more help being jealous, under such circumstances, than
she could help the beat and throb of her blood. Nevertheless, Carley was
glad Flo Hutter had been there, and always she would be grateful to her
for that kindness.

Carley disrobed and, donning her dressing gown, she unpacked her bags
and hung her things upon pegs under the curtained shelves. Then she
lay down to rest, with no intention of slumber. But there was a strange
magic in the fragrance of the room, like the piny tang outdoors, and in
the feel of the bed, and especially in the low, dreamy hum and murmur of
the waterfall. She fell asleep. When she awakened it was five o'clock.
The fire in the stove was out, but the water was still warm. She bathed
and dressed, not without care, yet as swiftly as was her habit at home;
and she wore white because Glenn had always liked her best in white. But
it was assuredly not a gown to wear in a country house where draughts of
cold air filled the unheated rooms and halls. So she threw round her
a warm sweater-shawl, with colorful bars becoming to her dark eyes and
hair.

All the time that she dressed and thought, her very being seemed to be