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Coolidge, Susan, 1835-1905

"Clover"

Oh, yes;
there will be plenty of room. No danger about that. We're almost sure to
have good weather too. Good-morning. I'm so glad you enjoyed the roses."
There was a splendid cluster of Jacqueminot buds in Clover's dress, at
which Clarence glared wrathfully as he caught these words. The only
consolation was that the creature in duck was going. He was making his
last bows; and one of the girls went with him, which still farther reduced
the number of what in his heart Clarence stigmatized as "a crowd."
"I must go too," said the girl in blue. "Good-by, Clover. I shall run in a
minute to-morrow to talk over the last arrangements for Thursday."
"What's going to happen on Thursday?" growled Clarence as soon as she had
departed.
"Oh, such a delightful thing," cried Clover, sparkling and dimpling. "Old
Mr. Wade, the father of young Mr. Wade, whom you saw just now, is a
director on the railroad, you know; and they have given him the
director's car to take a party over the Marshall Pass, and he has asked
Phil and me to go. It is _such_ a surprise. Ever since we came to St.
Helen's, people have been telling us what a beautiful journey it is; but I
never supposed we should have the chance to take it. Mrs. Hope is going
too, and the doctor, and Miss Chase and Miss Perham,--all the people we
know best, in fact. Isn't it nice?"
"Oh, certainly; very nice," replied Clarence, in a tone of deep offence.


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