It's a great deal nicer, I think."
"I am so sorry," said kind little Mrs. Hope. "Our storms out here do come
up very suddenly. I wish I had noticed that you had left your parasol.
Well, Clover, you've had a chance now to see the doctor's beautiful
Colorado hail and thunder to perfection. How do you like them?"
"I like everything in Colorado, I believe," replied Clover, laughing. "I
won't even except the hail."
"She's the girl for this part of the world," cried Dr. Hope, approvingly.
"She'd make a first-rate pioneer. We'll keep her out here, Mary, and never
let her go home. She was born to live at the West."
"Was I? It seems queer then that I should have been born to live in
Burnet."
"Oh, we'll change all that."
"I'm sure I don't see how."
"There are ways and means," oracularly.
Mrs. Watson was so cast down by the misadventure to her parasol that she
expressed no regret at not being asked to join in the picnic next day,
especially as she understood that it consisted of young people. Mrs. Hope
very rightly decided that a whole day out of doors, in a rough place,
would give pain rather than pleasure to a person who was both so feeble
and so fussy, and did not suggest her going. Clover and Phil waked up
quite fresh and untired after a sound night's sleep. There seemed no limit
to what might be done and enjoyed in that inexhaustibly renovating air.
Odin's Garden proved to be a wonderful assemblage of rocky shapes rising
from the grass and flowers of a lonely little plain on the far side of the
mesa, four or five miles from St.
Pages:
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134