Poppy arched her brows and
made great amused eyes at Clover, trying to entangle her into admissions
as to this or that, and Clarence experimented in the same direction; but
Clover was innocently impervious to these efforts, and no one ever knew
what had happened between her and Thurber,--if, indeed, anything had
happened.
So May came to St. Helen's in due course, of time. The sand-storms and the
snow-storms were things of the past, the tawny yellow of the plains began
to flush with green, and every day the sun grew more warm and beautiful.
Phil seemed perfectly well and sound now; their occupancy of No. 13 was
drawing to a close; and Clover, as she reflected that Colorado would soon
be a thing of the past, and must be left behind, was sensible of a little
sinking of the heart even though she and Phil were going home.
CHAPTER XI.
THE LAST OF THE CLOVER-LEAVES.
Last days are very apt to be hard days. As the time drew near for quitting
No. 13, Clover was conscious of a growing reluctance.
"I wonder why it is that I mind it so much?" she asked herself. "Phil has
got well here, to be sure; that would be enough of itself to make me fond
of the place, and we have had a happy winter in this little house. But
still, papa, Elsie, John,--it seems very queer that I am not gladder to go
back to them. I can't account for it. It isn't natural, and it seems wrong
in me.
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