them who didn't come to love Arizona."

"Tenderfoot! It hadn't occurred to me. But of course--" murmured Carley.

Then Mrs. Hutter returned, carrying a tray, which she set upon a chair, and
drew to Carley's side. "Eat an' drink," she said, as if these actions were
the cardinally important ones of life. "Flo, you carry her bags up to that
west room we always give to some particular person we want to love Lolomi."
Next she threw sticks of wood upon the fire, making it crackle and blaze,
then seated herself near Carley and beamed upon her.

"You'll not mind if we call you Carley?" she asked, eagerly.

"Oh, indeed no! I--I'd like it," returned Carley, made to feel friendly and
at home in spite of herself.

"You see it's not as if you were just a stranger," went on Mrs. Hutter.
"Tom--that's Flo's father--took a likin' to Glenn Kilbourne when he first
came to Oak Creek over a year ago. I wonder if you all know how sick that
soldier boy was. . . . Well, he lay on his back for two solid weeks--in the
room we're givin' you. An' I for one didn't think he'd ever get up. But he
did. An' he got better. An' after a while he went to work for Tom. Then six
months an' more ago he invested in the sheep business with Tom. He lived
with us until he built his cabin up West Fork. He an' Flo have run together
a good deal, an' naturally he told her about you. So you see you're not a
stranger. An' we want you to feel you're with friends."

"I thank you, Mrs. Hutter," replied Carley, feelingly. "I never could thank
you enough for being good to Glenn. I did not know he was so--so sick. At
first he wrote but seldom."