But he seems just about as
he was when we came, so there's no use waiting; and I'd rather go to the
Shoshone anyway. I always said it was a mistake that we didn't go there in
the first place. It was Dr. Hope's doing, and I have not the least
confidence in him. He hasn't osculated me once since I came."
"Hasn't he?" said Clover, feeling her voice tremble, and perfectly aware
of the shaking of Phil's shoulders behind her.
"No; and I don't call just putting his ear to my chest, listening. Dr.
Bangs, at home, would be ashamed to come to the house without his
stethoscope. I mean to move this afternoon. I've given Mrs. Marsh
notice."
So Mrs. Watson and her belongings went to the Shoshone, and Clover packed
the trunks with a lighter heart for her departure.
The last day of July found Clover and Phil settled in the Ute Park. It was
a wild and beautiful valley, some hundreds of feet higher than St.
Helen's, and seemed the very home of peace. A Sunday-like quiet pervaded
the place, whose stillness was never broken except by bird-songs and the
rustle of the pine branches.
The sides of the valley near its opening were dotted here and there with
huts and cabins belonging to parties who had fled from the heat of the
plains for the summer. At the upper end stood the ranch house,--a large,
rather rudely built structure,--and about it were a number of cabins and
cottages, in which two, four, or six people could be accommodated.
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