Clover noticed now, for the first time, that
these walks were several inches higher than the grass-beds on either side.
She wondered if they were made so on purpose, and resolved to notice if
the next place had the same arrangement.
But as they reached the next place and the next, lo! the phenomenon was
repeated and Dr. Hope's lawn too was in the same condition,--everything
was overlaid with water. They began to suspect what it must mean, and
Mrs. Hope confirmed the suspicion. It was irrigation day in Mountain
Avenue, it seemed. Every street in the town had its appointed period when
the invaluable water, brought from a long distance for the purpose, was
"laid on" and kept at a certain depth for a prescribed number of hours.
"We owe our grass and shrubs and flower-beds entirely to this
arrangement," Mrs. Hope told them. "Nothing could live through our dry
summers if we did not have the irrigating system."
"Are the summers so dry?" asked Clover. "It seems to me that we have had a
thunder-storm almost every day since we came."
"We do have a good many thunderstorms," Mrs. Hope admitted; "but we can't
depend on them for the gardens."
"And did you ever hear such magnificent thunder?" asked Dr. Hope.
"Colorado thunder beats the world."
"Wait till you see our magnificent Colorado hail," put in Mrs. Hope,
wickedly. "That beats the world, too. It cuts our flowers to pieces, and
sometimes kills the sheep on the plains.
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