Mrs. Hope came for a call; a pretty little
woman, as friendly and kind as her husband. Then Clover and Phil went out
for a stroll about the town. Their wonder increased at every turn; that a
place so well equipped and complete in its appointments could have been
created out of nothing in fifteen years was a marvel!
After two or three turns they found themselves among shops, whose
plate-glass windows revealed all manner of wares,--confectionery, new
books, pretty glass and china, bonnets of the latest fashion. One or two
large pharmacies glittered with jars--purple and otherwise--enough to
tempt any number of Rosamonds. Handsome carriages drawn by fine horses
rolled past them, with well-dressed people inside. In short, St. Helen's
was exactly like a thriving Eastern town of double its size, with the
difference that here a great many more people seemed to ride than to
drive. Some one cantered past every moment,--a lady alone, two or three
girls together, or a party of rough-looking men in long boots, or a single
ranchman sitting loose in his stirrups, and swinging a stock whip.
Clover and Phil were standing on a corner, looking at some "Rocky Mountain
Curiosities" displayed for sale,--minerals, Pueblo pottery, stuffed
animals, and Indian blankets; and Phil had just commented on the beauty of
a black horse which was tied to a post close by, when its rider emerged
from a shop, and prepared to mount.
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