While the dust settled, she stole out to a place on the hillside where the
night before she had noticed some mariposa lilies growing, and gathered a
large bunch. Then she proceeded to dust and straighten, sorted out the
newspapers, wiped the woodwork with a damp cloth, arranged the disorderly
books, and set the breakfast-table. When all this was done, there was
still time to finish her toilet and put her pretty hair in its accustomed
coils and waves; so that Clarence and Mr. Templestowe came in to find the
fire blazing, the room bright and neat, Mrs. Hope sitting at the table in
a pretty violet gingham ready to pour the coffee which Choo Loo had
brought in, and Clover, the good fairy of this transformation scene, in a
fresh blue muslin, with a ribbon to match in her hair, just setting the
mariposas in the middle of the table. Their lilac-streaked bells nodded
from a tall vase of ground glass.
"Oh, I say," cried Clarence, "this _is_ something like! Isn't it
scrumptious, Geoff? The hut never looked like this before. It's wonderful
what a woman--no, two women," with a bow to Mrs. Hope--"can do toward
making things pleasant. Where did that vase come from, Clover? We never
owned anything so fine as that, I'm sure."
"It came from my bag; and it's a present for you and Mr. Templestowe. I
saw it in a shop-window yesterday; and it occurred to me that it might be
just the thing for High Valley, and fill a gap.
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