"How dear of him!" she thought, lifting one of the big pinon logs with a
gentle touch; "and how like him to think of it! I wonder what makes him so
different from other people. He never says fine flourishing things like
Thurber Wade, or abrupt, rather rude things like Clarence, or
inconsiderate things like Phil, or satirical, funny things like the
doctor; but he's always doing something kind. He's a little bit like papa,
I think; and yet I don't know. I wish Katy could have seen him."
Life at St. Helen's in the winter season is never dull; but the gayest
fortnight of all was when, late in January, the High Valley partners
deserted their duties and came in for a visit to the Hopes. All sorts of
small festivities had been saved for this special fortnight, and among the
rest, Clover and Phil gave a party.
"If you can squeeze into the dining-room, and if you can do with just
cream-toast for tea," she explained, "it would be such fun to have you
come. I can't give you anything to eat to speak of, because I haven't any
cook, you know; but you can all eat a great deal of dinner, and then you
won't starve."
Thurber Wade, the Hopes, Clarence, Geoff, Marian, and Alice made a party
of nine, and it was hard work indeed to squeeze so many into the tiny
dining-room of No. 13. The very difficulties, however, made it all the
jollier. Clover's cream-toast,--which she prepared before their eyes on
the blazer,--her little tarts made of crackers split, buttered, and
toasted brown with a spoonful of raspberry jam in each, and the big loaf
of hot ginger-bread to be eaten with thick cream from the High Valley,
were pronounced each in its way to be absolute perfection.
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