There was no church within reach; and
it was Geoff's regular custom, it seemed, to hold a little service for the
men in the valley. Almost all of them came, except the few Mexicans, who
were Roman Catholics, and the room was quite full. Geoff read the service
well and reverently, gave out the hymns, and played the accompaniments for
them, closing with a brief bit of a sermon by the elder Arnold. It was all
done simply and as a matter of course, and Clarence seemed to join in it
with much good-will; but Clover privately wondered whether the idea of
doing such a thing would have entered into his head had he been left
alone, or, if so, whether he would have cared enough about it to carry it
out regularly. She doubted. Whatever the shortcomings of the Church of
England may be, she certainly trains her children into a devout observance
of Sunday.
The next day, Monday, was to be their last,--a fact lamented by every one,
particularly Phil, who regarded the High Valley as a paradise, and would
gladly have remained there for the rest of his natural life. Clover hated
to take him away; but Dr. Hope had warned her privately that a week would
be enough of it, and that with Phil's tendency to overdo, too long a stay
would be undesirable. So she stood firm, though Clarence urged a delay,
and Phil seconded the proposal with all his might.
The very pleasantest moment of the visit perhaps came on that last
afternoon, when Geoff got her to himself for once, and took her up a
trail where she had not yet been, in search of scarlet pentstemons to
carry back to St.
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