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Coolidge, Susan, 1835-1905

"Clover"

"
"And I'll come and help if I don't over-sleep," declared Mrs. Hope; "but
this air makes me feel dreadfully as if I should."
"I sha'n't call you," said Clover; "but it will be nice to have you, if
you come."
She stood at her window after Mrs. Hope had gone, for a last look at the
peak which glittered sharply in the light of the moon. The air was like
scented wine. She drew a long breath.
"How lovely it is!" she said to herself, and kissed her hand to the
mountain. "Good-night, you beautiful thing."
She woke with the first beam of yellow sun, after eight hours of dreamless
sleep, with a keen sense of renovation and refreshment. A great splashing
was going on in the opposite wing, and manly voices hushed to suppressed
tones were audible. Then came a sound of boots on the porch; and peeping
from behind her curtain, she saw Clarence and his friend striding across
the grass in the direction of the stock-huts. She glanced at her watch. It
was a quarter past five.
"Now is my chance," she thought; and dressing rapidly, she put on a little
cambric jacket, knotted her hair up, tied a handkerchief over it, and
hurried into the sitting-room. Her first act was to throw open all the
windows to let out the smell of stale tobacco, her next to hunt for a
broom. She found one at last, hanging on the door of a sort of
store-closet, and moving the furniture as noiselessly as she could, she
gave the room a rapid but effectual sweeping.


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