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We called her Dolly after Flo Dearmore's mother, who was very good to us" here he looked smilingly at Tommy, who had blushed at the mention of Flo's name "my little girl had beautiful brown eyes just like Dolly Turnpike's." He left them then. Whimple lingered a little while and finally blurted out "I never knew that about Epstein."
And on the instant Carley espied a low, moving object, somehow furry, and gray in color. She gasped. She could not speak. Her heart gave a mighty throb and seemed to stop. "What do you see?" cried Flo, sharply, peering ahead. "Oh!... Come, Carley. Run!" Flo's cry showed she must nearly be strangled with terror. But Carley was frozen in her tracks. Her eyes were riveted upon the gray furry object.
Burton, "and we'll go downstairs and wait for my husband. I must let you into a secret, too. We don't dine till past seven; you may as well remember that for the future. But I wanted to have you for half an hour to myself before dinner, so that I might look at you, and make up my mind about Flo's choice. I hope you won't be angry with me?" "And how have you made up your mind?"
"Nope, I'm not crazy, an' I shore said invitation.... I meant thet white shimmy dress you wore the night of Flo's party. Thet's my invitation to get a little fresh with you, Pretty Eyes!" Carley could only stare at him. His words seemed to have some peculiar, unanswerable power. "Wal, if it wasn't an invitation, what was it?" he asked, with another step that brought him within reach of her.
She was small and wizened and old, with yellow, flabby jaws, a neck like the throat of an alligator, and straight, white hair that stood from her head uncannily stiff. "But the demoiselle wishes to appear a boy, un petit garcon?" she inquired, gazing eagerly at Flo's long, slender frame.
But when Sunday came, and she found herself seated at Aunt Flo's small, perfectly appointed dinner-table, she found it increasingly difficult to keep her mind upon the brilliant and cynical conversation of her most admired friend.
When Carley essayed to get off Glenn tried to stop her, saying she could see well enough from there. But Carley got down and followed Flo. She heard Hutter call to Glenn: "Say, Ryan is short of men. We'll lend a hand for a couple of hours." Presently Carley reached Flo's side and the first corral that contained sheep. They formed a compact woolly mass, rather white in color, with a tinge of pink.
"Trouble; that's what." "But isn't she worth it?" "That all depends upon what an' who she is." "Certainly. Now you are talking sense. Isn't your daughter worth all the trouble she has been to you?" "Sure, sure; yer sartinly right thar, Miss. Flo's given me a heap of trouble, but not half as much as Eben. That boy's a caution, an' he's given me an' Martha no end of worry." "In what way?"
For Carley, quick to read emotion, caught a glimpse of a strong, steadfast soul that spiritualized the brown freckled face. Carley wheeled to gaze out and down into this incomprehensible abyss, and on to the far up-flung heights, white and red and yellow, and so on to the wonderful mystic haze of distance. The significance of Flo's designation of miles could not be grasped by Carley.
Where are you staying?" "Very well last night at the Chauvain. I called at your hotel, but you were out." "I have so much to say, I don't know where to begin! Get in and we can talk at our ease. I was going for a drive and longing for company. Flo's saving up for tonight." "What happens then, a ball?" "A Christmas party at our hotel.
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