 CHAPTER TEN CHAPTER TEN, NUMBER 13 PIRED STREET Clover did not declare it again for several days after this conversation, the remembrance of which was uncomfortable to her. She feared he was feeling hurt or happy, and would show it in his manner, and she disliked very much the idea that film had suspected reason, or worse still Mr. Tempestow. But when he finally appeared, he seemed much the same as usual. After all she reflected, it has only been a boyish impulse. He has already got over it, or not meant all he said. In this she did clearance and injustice. He had been very much in earnest when he spoke, and it showed the good stuff which was in him and Israel regard for Clover, that he should be making so many a struggle with his disappointment and pain. His life had been a lonely one in Colorado. He could not afford to quarrel with his favorite cousin, and with him, as with other lovers, there may have been besides some locking hope that she might yet change her mind. But perhaps Clover was in a mesh of right in her conviction, the clearance was still too young and underdeveloped to have seen Scovery deep with him. He seemed to have in many ways a boyish and as undisciplined as fair. With early September the summering of the youth park came to a close. The cold begins early at the deletion, and light frosts and red leaves want the dwellers intense and cabins to flee. Clover made the preparations for departure with royal reluctance. She had grown very fond of the place, but Ful was perfectly himself again, and there seemed no reason for their staying longer. So back to St. Helens' event, and to Mrs. Marsh, who in reply to Clover's letter had written that she must make room for them somehow, though for the life of her she couldn't say how. It proved to be too small back rooms. An eruption of eastern invalids had filled the house to overflowing, and new faces met them at every turn. Two or three of the last summer inmates had died during this day. One of them the very sick man, whose room Mrs. Watson had coveted. His death took place as if on purpose she told Clover the very week after her removal to the Shoshan. Mrs. Watson herself was preparing her return to the east. I have seen the west now, she said. All I want to see, and I am quite ready to go back to my own part of the country. Ellen writes that she thinks I'd better start for home, so as to get settled before the cold. And it's so cold here, that I can't realize that they are still in the middle of peaches at home. Ellen always spices the grate, they are better than preserves, and there's for canned ones, why peaches and water is what they call them. Well, my dear, distance lands enchantment, and Clover had become my dear again. I am glad I could come out and help you along, and now that you know so many people here, you won't need me as much as you did at first. I shall tell Mrs. Perkins to write to Mrs. Hall, to tell your father how well your brother is looking, and I know he'll be. And here is a little handkerchief for a keepsake. It was a pretty handkerchief, of pale yellow silk with embroidered corners. In Clover kissed the old lady as she sank her, and departed good friends, but the intercourse had led her to make certain firm resolutions. I will try to keep my mind clear and my talk clear, to learn what I want and what I have a right to want, and what I mean to say, so as not to puzzle and worry people when I grow old, by being vague and helpless and fussy, she reflected. I suppose if I don't find the habit now, I shan't be able to then, and it would be dreadful to end by being like poor Mrs. Watson. All together Mrs. Marsh's house had lost its home like character, and it was not strange that under the circumstances, Thurl should flag a little. He was not ill, but he was out of sorts in dismal, and disposed to consider the presence of so many strangers as a personal wrong. Clover felt that it was not the good atmosphere for him, and anxiously revolved in her mind what was best to do. The show shan't was much too expensive. Good boarding houses in St. Terence were few and far between, and all of them shared in a still-created, degraded disadvantages, which had made themselves felt at Mrs. Marsh's. The solution to her puzzle came, as solutions often do unexpectedly. She was walking down by a street on her way to call on Alice Blanchard, when her attention was attracted to a small shut-up house on which was a sign. Number 13 to let, furnished. The sign was not printed, but read on a half-sheet of fullscap, which was what led Clover to notice it. She started the house for a while, then opened the gate and went in. Two or three steps led to a little piasser. She seated herself on the top step and tried to peep in at the closed blinds of the nearest window. While she was doing so, a woman with a shawl over her head came hastily down a narrow-side street or alley and approached her. "'Oh, did you want the key?' she said. "'The key?' replied Clover, surprised. "'Of this house, you mean?' "'Yes. Mrs. Ducky left it with me when she went away, because she said it was handy, and it could give it to anybody who wished to look at the place. You are the first that has come, so when I see you sitting here I just run over. Did Mr. Bellot send you?' "'No, nobody sent me. Is it Mr. Bellot who is the letting of the house?' "'Yes, but I can let Fox in.' I told Mrs. Ducky it would end us a little now and then if it wasn't took. Poor soul, she was anxious enough about it, and it all had to be done on a sudden, and she is in such a heap of trouble that she didn't know which way to turn. It was just lock up and go. Tell me about her,' said Clover, making room on the step for the woman to sit down. While she came at last here with her man, who had lung trouble, and he wasn't no better at first, and then he seemed to pick up for a while, and they took this house and fixed themselves to stay for a year at least. They made it real nice too, and slept up considerable. Mrs. Ducky said, said she, I don't want to spend no more money on it, then I can help. But Mrs. Ducky must be made comfortable, she says. Then was her very words. He used to sit out on his stoop all day long in summer, and she alongside him, except when she had to be indoors during the work. She didn't keep no regular help. I did the washing for her, and came in now and then for a day to clean, so she managed very well. Then, when she before last it was, he had a bleeding, and sank away all in a minute, and was gone before the doctor could be had. Mrs. Ducky was all stand-like with the shock of it, and before she got her mind cleared up so as to argue about anything, came a telegraph to say her son was down with Defteria, and his wife was a young baby, and both was very low. And between one and the other she was pretty near out of her wits. We picked her up as quick as we could, and she was sent off by Express, and she says to me, Miss Kenny, you see how it is. I've got this house on my hands till May. There's no time to see to anything, and I have no heart to care. But if anyone will take it for the winter, well and good. And I'll leave the sheets and tablecloths and everything in it, because it may make a difference. And I don't mind about them now, and if no one does take it, I'll just have to bear the loss, says she, poor soul. She was in a world of trouble surely. Do you know what rent she asks for the house, the clover, in whose mind the vague plan was beginning to take shape? Twenty-five per month was what she paid, and she said she'd throw the furniture in for the rest of the time just to get rid of the rent. Clover reflected. Twenty-five dollars a week was what they were paying at Mrs. Marsh's. Could they take this house and live on the same sum after deducting the rent, and perhaps get this good-natured woman to come in for a certain number of hours and help to the work? She almost fancied that they could if they kept no regular servant. I think you would like to see the house, she said at last. After a silent calculation, the scrutinizing looked at Miss Kenny, who was a faded wiry, but with all kind-looking person, shrewd and clean, a north-of-island protestant as she afterward told Clover, in fact, her accent was rather scotch than Irish. They went in. The front door opened into a small hall, from which another door led into the back hall, with a staircase. There was a tiny sitting-home, an equally tiny dining-home, a small kitchen and a bath to bedrooms, and a sort of a blasted space, which would answer to put trunks in. That was all, safe a little woodshed. Everything was bare and scanty, and rather particularly ugly. The sitting-home had a frightful paper of middle-mastered and molestous tint, and a matted floor, but there was a good size to open fireplace for the burning of wood, in which to bricks the duty for andreans. Three or four splint and cane-buttoned chairs and lounge and a table, while the pipe of the large, morning-glorious stove in the dining-home expended into a sort of drum in the chamber above. To secure the warm-sleeping-place for Phil, Glover began to think that they could make it do. Mrs. Kenny, who evidently considered the house as a wonder of luxury and convenience, opened various cupboards, and pointed, miringly, to the glass and china, the kitchen-tins and utensils, and the cotton-sheets and pillowcases, which they respectively held. There's water laid on, she said, you don't have to pump any. There's the wash-tops in the shed, there's a real nice-team boiler for the closets, and never see a nicer. Mrs. Ducky had it heat in the dining-home set the very week before she went away. Winter's coming on, she says, and I must see about keeping my husband warm, never thinking, pushing, how it was to be. Does this chimney draw? I asked the practical Glover, and does the kitchen stove bake well. First rate, I've seen Mrs. Ducky take her biscuits out many a time. It's nice the brownies ever you'd want, and the chimney don't smoke a mite. They kept the wood fire here in Maymost all the time, so I know. The Glover sat the matter over for a day or two, consulted with Dr. Hope, and finally decided to try the experiment. Number 13 was taken, and Miss Kenny engaged for two days' work each week. With such other occasional assistance, as Glover might require, she was a widow, it seemed, with one son, who, being employed on the railroad, only came home for the nights. She was glad of her regular engagement, improved an excellent stand-by, and a great help to Glover, to whom she had taken a fancy from the start, and many were the good turns which she did for love, rather than hire, from a little mess as she called her. To fill the plans seemed altogether delightful. This was natural, as all the fun fell to a share and none of the trouble. A fact of which Mrs. Hope occasionally reminded him. Glover persisted, however, that it was all fair, and that she got lots of fun out of it too, and didn't mind the trouble. The house was so absurdly small, that it seemed to strike everyone as a good joke. And Glover's friend set themselves to help in the preparations, as if the establishment in Paiot Street were a kind of baby house, about which they could amuse themselves at will. It is a temptation always to make a house pretty, but Glover felt herself an honor, so spent no more than was necessary. Papa had trusted her, and she was resolved to justify his trust. So she briefly mistook her desire for several things, which would have been great improvements so far as looks went, and confined her purchases to articles of clear necessity. Extra blankets, a bedside carpet for Phil's room, and a caving dish over which you could prepare little impromptu dishes, and so the fuel is in fatigue. She allowed herself some cheap mattress curtains for the parlor. In a few yards of deep-right flannel, to cover sundry shelves, and corner brackets which choffed the temple's door, her deterrent for carp and tree, put up for her. Various loans and gifts too, appeared from friendly ethics and store rooms to help out. Mrs. Hope handed up some old iron fire dogs and a pair of bellows. Poppy contributed a pair of brass knob tongs, and Mrs. Marshall into her lamp. Number 30 began to look attractive. They were nearly ready, but not yet moved in. When one day, as Clover stood in the queer little parlor, contemplating the effect of Choff's last effort, an extra pine shelf above the narrow mental shelf, a pair of arms stolen round her waist, and a cheek which had a sweet familiarity about it, was pressed against hers. She turned and gave a great trick of amazement and joy, for it was his sister Kate's arms that beheld her. Beyond in the doorway were Mrs. Ash and Amy, with Phil between them. Is it you, is it really you? cried Clover, loving and sobbing all at once in her happy excitement. How did it happen? I never knew that you were coming. Neither did we. It all happened suddenly, explained Katie. The ship was ordered to New York on three days notice, and as soon as Ned sailed, Polly and Amy tased to follow. There would have been just time to get the letter here if we had read Ned once, but I had the fancy to give you a surprise. Oh, it is such a nice surprise, but when did you come, and where are you? At the Shoshon House. At least our bags are there, but we only stayed a minute. We were in such a hurry to get to you. We went to Mrs. Marsh's in front Phil, who brought us here. Have you really taken this funny little house, as Phil tells us? We really have. Oh, what a comfort it will be to tell you all about it. And have you say, if I have done right, dear, dear Katie, I feel as if home had just arrived by train, and Polly too. You all look so well, and as if California had agreed with you, Amy has grown so that I should scarcely have known her. For a delightful day is followed. Katie flung herself into all Clover's plans with the full warmth of sisterly interest. And though there are hopes and other kind friends with many hospitable overtures, and who clearly have turned her short visit into a continuous fate, she persisted in keeping the main part of her time free. She must see a little of St. Terence, she declared, so as to be able to tell her father about it, and she must help Clover to get to housekeeping. These were the important things, and nothing else must interfere with them. Most effectual assistance did she render in the way of unpacking and arranging. More than that, one day when Clover, rather to her own disgust, had been made to go with Polly and Amy to Denver while Katie stayed behind, low on her return and transformation had taken place. The ugly paper in the pile of number 13 was found replaced with one of warm, sunny gold brown. Oh, why did you, cried Clover? It's only for a few months, and the other would have answered perfectly well. Why did you, Katie? I suppose it was foolish. Katie admitted, but somehow it couldn't be to have you sitting opposite the deplorable, master-colored thing all winter long, and rarely and truly it hardly cost anything. It was a remnant, reduced to ten cents a roll. The whole thing was less than four dollars. You can call it your Christmas present for me if you like, and I shall play besides the other paper had ascending in it. I am sure it looked as if it had, and corrosive supplement too. Clover laughed outright. It was so funny to hear Katie's fertility of excuse. Your dear ridiculous darling, she said, giving her sister a good hug. It was just like you, and though it's cold and perfectly delighted, I did hate the paper with all my heart, and this is lovely. It makes the room look like a different thing. Other benefactions followed. Polly, it appeared, had bought more Indian curacies in Denver than she knew what to do with, and beg permission to leave a big bear skin and two wolfskin with Clover for the winter, and a splendid striped Hawaii blanket as a part here to keep off drafts from the entry. Katie had set herself up in California blankets while they were in San Francisco, and she now insisted on leaving a bear behind and loaning Clover besides one of the two beautiful Japanese silk pictures which Nett had given her, which made a fine spot of color and a pretty new wall. There were presents in her trunks for all at home, and Nett had sent Clover a beautiful lacquered box. Somehow Clover seemed like a new and doubly interesting Clover to Katie. She was struck by the self-reliance which had grown upon her by her bright ways and capacity and judgment which all her arrangement exhibited, and she listened with delight to Mrs. Hope's praises of her sister. She is really a wonderful little creature, so wise and chug-metical, and yet so pretty and full of fun. People are quite correct about her at here. I don't think you will ever get her back to the East again, Ms. Washington. There seems a strong determination on the part of several persons to keep her here. What do you mean? But Mrs. Hope, who believed in the old pro-verb about not addling eggs by meddling with temper immatually, refused to say another word, and Clover, when questioned, could not imagine what Mrs. Hope meant, and Katie had to go away with her curiosity unsatisfied. Clarence came in once while she was there, but she did not seem as the Templest though. Katie's last gift to Clover was a pretty teapot of Japanese wear. I meant it for Sassy, she explained, but as you have none, I'll give it to you instead and take her the fan-ment for you. It seems my appropriate. Phil and Clover moved into number 13 the day before the Eastern Party left, so is to be able to celebrate the occasion by having them all to an impromptu housewarming. There was not much to eat, and things were still a little unsettled, but Clover scrambled some eggs on a little place of a damn. The newly lit fire burned cheerfully, and the good deal of quiet fan-ment on about it. Amy was so charmed with the menu of the establishment that she cleared she meant to have fun exactly like it for Mabel whenever she got married. And the spirit left too, just like Clover's, in the cunning teeny-weeny kitchen, in the stove to pull things on. Mama, when shall I be old enough to have a house all of my own? Not till you are tired of playing with dolls, I'm afraid. Well, that will be never. If I thought I could ever be tired of Mabel, I should be so ashamed of myself that I should not know what to do. You oughtn't say such things, Mama. She might hear you too and have her feelings heard. And please don't call her dead, said Amy, who had a strong objection to the word doll, as my sister said to have to the word kept. Next morning the dear home-people proceeded on their way, and Clover fell to work resolutely on her housekeeping, glad to keep busy, for she had a little fear of being homesick for Katie. Every small odd-and-end that she had brought herself from Burnett came into play now. The photographs were pinned on the wall, the few books and ornaments took their places on the extemporized shelves and on the table, which, thanks to Mrs. Hope, was no longer bare, but hidden by a big square fried cotton flannel. There was almost always a little bunch of flowers from the Wade greenhouses, which was supposed to come from Mrs. Wade, and altogether the effect was cozy, and the little interior looked absolutely pretty, though the result was attained by such very simple means. Phil said it heavenly to be by themselves and out of the reach of strangers. Everything tasted delicious, all the arrangements pleased him. Never was a boy so easily suited as he for those first few weeks at number 13. You are awfully good to me, Clover. He said one night rather suddenly from the depths of his rocking chair. The remark was so little in Phil's line that he quite made her jump. I feel what made you say that, she asked. Oh, I don't know, I was thinking about it. We used to call Kate the nicest, but you are just as good as she is. This Clover Chastley considered a tremendous compliment. You always make a fellow feel like home as Choff Temple Stores says. Did Choff say that? With a sense of warm gladness in her heart. How nice of him! What made him say it? Oh, I don't know. It was up in the canyon one day when we got to talking, replied Phil. There are no flies on you, he considers. I asked him once if he didn't think Miss J's pretty, and he said not half as pretty as you were. Really, you seem to have been very confidential. And what is that about flies? Phil? Phil! You really mustn't use such slang. I suppose it is slang, but it's an awfully nice expression anyway. But what does it mean? Oh, you must just see by the sound of it what it means. There's no nonsense sticking out all over you like some of the other girls. It's a great compliment. Is it? Well, I'm glad to know. But Mr. Temple Stores never used such a phrase, I'm sure. No, he didn't, admitted Phil. But that's what he meant. So, wintered horn, the strange beautiful Colorado winter, with weeks of golden sunshine broken by occasional storms of wind and sand, a best carries of snow, which made the planes white for a few hours and then vanished, leaving them dry and firm as before. The nights were often cold, so cold to comfort tables and blankets seemed old to few, and clover roused with a shiver to sink, the presently it would be a duty to get up and start the fires, so that Phil might find a warm house when he came downstairs. Then, before she knew it, the fires would seem oppressive. First one window, then another could be thrown up, and Phil would be sitting on the pier and the barmy sunshine as comfortable as on a June morning at home. It was a wonderful climate, and as clover wrote to her father, the winter was better even than the summer and was certainly doing Phil more good. He was able to spend hours every day in the open air, walking, or riding Dr. Hope's horse, and improved steadily. Clover felt very happy about him. This early rising and fire-making were the hardest things she had to encounter, though all the housekeeping proved more vulnerable than in her inexperience she had expected it to be. After the first week or two, however, she managed very well, and gradually learned a little labor-saving ways which can only be learned by actual experiment. Getting breakfast and tea she enjoyed for the couple chiefly managed by the use of the chaving dish. Dinners were more difficult, till she hit on the happy idea of having Ms. Kenny roast a big piece of beef omaten or a pair of falls every Monday. The ESP has the resistance in the different stages of hot and cold and warm over, carried them well along through the week and supplemented with an occasional chopper steak served very well. Very good soups could be bought in tins which needed only to be seasoned and heated for the use on table. Oysters were easily procurable here, as everywhere in the West, good brown bread and rolls came from the bakery, and clover developed a heterodotarment talent for cookery, and the making of crepe gems, corn tortures, how can you expect on a barrel head before the parlor fire, and wonderful little flaky biscuits raced all in a minute with royal baking powder. She also became expert in that fine art of condensing work and making it move in easy grooves. Her tea sinks she washed with her breakfast sinks, just getting the cups and plates in the sink for the night, pouring a dip of full of boiling water over them. There was no silver to care for, no delicate glasses or valuable china. The very simplicity of apparatus made the house an easy one to keep. Glowers kept busy, for simplifiers you will, providing for the daily needs of two persons, thus take time. But she liked her cares and rarely felt tired. The elastic and vigorous air seemed to build up her forces from moment to moment, and each day's fatigues were modern repaired for each night's rest, which is the balance of true health and living. Little pleasures came from time to time, Christmas Day they spent with the hopes, who from the first to last proved the kindest, most helpful friends to them. The young men from the high valley were there also, and the day was brightly kept. From the home letters by the early mail to the grand merry-making and the dance, we switched wound up. Everybody had some little present for everybody else. Mrs. Wates and Clover Toll Indian rubber plant in a china pot, which made a spire of green in the south window for the rest of the winter. And Clover had spent many odd moments in stitches in the fabrication of a gorgeous Mexican work-site potcloth for the hopes. But of all Clover's offerings, the one which pleased her most, is showing a close observation of her needs, came from Choff Temple's though. It was a prosaic gift, being a wagonload of pinealwood for the fire. But then, all the twisted sticks, were heaped high with spine-bots, and long trails of red-froated knick-knick to serve as a Christmas dressing, and somehow the gift gave Clo a particular pleasure. How dear of him she sought, lifting one of the long-pinion logs with a gentle touch, and how like him to think of it, a wonder what makes him so different from other people. He never says fine-flourishing things like server-weight, or abrupt rather rude things like clearance, or inconsiderate things like fill, 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 Katie could have seen him. Life at St. Helens in the winter season is never dull, but the gayest fortnight of all of them was late in January. The high-bellied partners deserted their duties and came in for a visit to the hopes. All sorts of small festivities have been saved for this special fortnight, and among the rest, Clo and Phil gave a party. If you can squeeze into the dining-room, and if you can doish just cream-for-toast, 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. So I pervaded the hopes Clarence, Choff, Marianne, and Alice made a party of nine, and it was hard work indeed to squeeze so many into the tiny dining-room of number 13. The very difficulties, however, made it all the jollier. Clo was cream-toast, which she prepared before their eyes on the blazer. Her little tarts made of cracker split buttered and toasted brown with a spoonful of raspberry jam and itch, and the big loaf of hot gingerbread to be eaten with sick cream from the high valley were pronounced each in its way to be absolute perfection. Clarence infrequently volunteered to shunt the dishes into the kitchen after their pastures concluded, and together the round the fire to play 20 questions and stagecoach, and all men of what Clo were called lead-pencil games, grime-boying criticism, and enneagrams and consequences. There was immense love over some of these, as for instance, when Dr. Hope was reported as having met Mrs. Watson in the North Cheyenne Canyon, and he said that knowledge is power and she decided when larks flew around ready roasted, poor folks could stick a fork in. And the consequence was that they looked together to a cannibal island, where each suffered a process of disillusionation, and the world said it was the natural result of oscillation. This last sentence was fair, and the fear he had peeped a little or his context wouldn't have been so apropos. But all together the cream-toasts were as he called it was a pronounced success. It was not long after this that the mysterious little cloud of difference seemed to fall on top of it. He ceased to call it number 13 or to bring flowers from his mother, and by and by it was learned that he had started for a visit to the East. No one knew what had caused this phenomena, though some people may have suspected. Later it was announced that he was in Chicago and very attentive to a pretty miss somebody, whose father had made a great deal of money in standard all. Poppy arched her brows and made great amused eyes at Clover, trying to entangle her into admissions to death in clearance experimented in the same direction. But Clover was innocently pervious to these efforts, and no one knew what had happened between her and Cerber, if indeed anything had happened. So May came to St. Terence in due course of time. The sandstorms and snowstorms were things of the past. The torn yellow of the plains began to flush with green, and every day the sun grew more warm and beautiful. Fills him perfectly well and sound now. The occupancy of number 13 was drawing to her clothes. In Clover, as she reflected, the Colorado would soon be a thing of the past and must be left behind or sensible of a little sinking of the heart even though she and Phil were going home. End of Chapter 10, Recording by Ellie, May 2010. Chapter 11 of Clover. This slip-revox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Ellie, Clover by Susan Coolidge. Chapter 11, The Last of the Clover Leaves. Last days are very apt to be hard days. As the time turned near for quitting number 13, Clover was conscious of a growing reluctance. A wonder why it is that I minded 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 had a very happy winter in this little house. But still, Papa elses it, John. It seems very queer that I am not glad to go back to them. I can't account for it. It isn't natural, and it seems wrong in me. It was a rainy afternoon in which Clover made these reflections. Phil, wary of being shut in doors, had done the all-stand over shoes and had gone up to make a call on Mrs. Hope. Clover was quite alone in the house as she sat with her mending basket beside the fireplace, in which was burning the last of the three of the pinion logs, chaffed temples those Christmas present. They will just last us out, reflected Clover, what a comfort they have been. I would like to carry the very last of them home with me and keep it to look at it. But I suppose it would be silly. She looked about the little room, nothing as yet had been moved or disturbed, though the next week would bring the term of occupancy to a close. This is a good evening to begin to take things down and pack them, she thought. No one is likely to come in and fill his way. She rose from her chair, moved restlessly to and fro and had last leaned forward and then pinned a corner of one of the photographs on the wall. She stood for a moment irresolutely with the pinion her fingers. Then she jammed it determinedly back into the photograph again and returned to her viewing. I almost think there were tears in her eyes. No, she said half aloud, I won't spoil it yet. We'll have one more pleasant night with everything just as it is and then I'll go to work and pull all two pieces at once. It's the easiest way. Just then a foot sounded on the steps and the knock was heard. Clover opened the door and gave an exclamation of pleasure. It was choffery temple-stow, splashed and wet from the muddy ride down the pass but wearing a very bright face. How nice and unexpected this is, was Clover's greeting. It is such a bad day that I didn't suppose your clearance could possibly get in. Come to the fire and form yourself. Is he here too? No, he is out at the ranch. I came in to meet a man on business, but it seems there's a washout somewhere between here and Santa Fe and my man telegraphs that he can't get through till tomorrow noon. So you'll have to spend the night in town? Yes, I took merry-gold to the stable and spoke to Mrs. Marsh about the room and then I walked up to the UN Fair. How easy, by the way. Quite well. I never saw him so strong or so jolly. Papa will hardly believe his eyes when he get back. He has gone up to the hopes but will be impresently. You'll stay and take tea with us, of course. Thanks, if you will help me. I was hoping to be asked. Oh, we are only too glad to have you. Our time here is getting so short that we want to make the most of all our friends and by good luck there's a can of oysters in the house so I can give you something hot. Do you really go so soon? Our lease is out next week, you know. Really, so soon as that? It isn't soon. We have lived here nearly eight months. What a good time we've all had in this little house, It has been a sort of warm little center to us homeless people all winter. You don't count yourself among the homeless ones, I hope. It's such a pleasant place as the high valley to live in. Oh, the hut is all very well in its way, of course, but I don't look at it as a home exactly. It answers to eat and to sleep in and fire shelter when it rains but you can't make much more of it than that. The only time it ever seemed home-like in the least was when you and Mrs. Hope were there. That week spoiled it for me for all time. That's a pity if it's true, but I hope it isn't. It was such a delightful week, though, and I think you do the valiant injustice. It's a beautiful place. Now, if you will excuse me, I'm going to get supper. Let me help you. Oh, there's almost nothing to do. I'd much rather you would sit still and rest. You are tired from your ride, I'm sure. And if you don't mind, I'll bring my blazer and cook the oysters here by the fire. I always did like to kitchen in the dining room as Mrs. Wittner calls it. Clover had set the tea table before she had set down to sue, so the rally was almost nothing to do. Chow flew back in his chair and looked on with a sort of dreamy blesher, as she went lightly to and fro, making her arrangements, which, as simple as they were, had a certain dainty quality about them, which, sim peculiar to all that Clover did. Twisted a trail of knick-knack about the butter plate, laid a garnish of fresh parsley and the slices of cold beef and set the glass full of wild crocuses in the middle of the table. Then she returned to the parlor, put the kettle which had already began to sing on the fire and began to stir and season her oysters, which presently sent out the savory smell. I have learned six ways of cooking oysters this winter. She announced clearly, this is a dry pan roast. I wonder if you'll approve of it. And I wonder why Phil doesn't come. I wish he would make haste. For these are nearly done. There he is now, remarked Choff. But instead, it was Doctor Hope's office boy with a note. Dear Clover, Mrs. Hope wants me for the first-handed twist, so I'm staying if you don't mind. She says if it didn't pour so, she would have asked you to come to, Phil. Well, I'm glad, said Clover. It's been a dull day for him, and now he'll have a pleasant evening. Only he'll miss you. I call it very inconsiderate of the littlest camp, observed Choff. He doesn't know, but he's leaving you to spend the evening quite alone. Oh, boys don't think of things like that. Boys ought to then, however, I can stand his absence if you can. It was a merry little meal to which they presently sat down, full of the charm which the unexpected brings with it. Clover had grown to regard Choff as one of the very best friends, and was perfectly at her ease with him, while to him, poor lonely fellow, such a glimpse of cozy home life was like a peep at paradise. He prolonged the pleasure as much as possible, ate each oyster slowly, descending on its flavor, and drank more cups of tea than were at all good for him. For the pleasure of having Clover put him out. He made no further offers to help, and supper was ended, but looked on with fascinated eyes as she cleared the way and made things tidy. At last she finished and came back to the fire. There was a silence. Choff was first to break it. It would seem like a prison to you, I'm afraid, he said abruptly. What would? I was thinking of what you said about High Valley. Oh, you've only seen it in summer, you know. It's quite a different place in winter. I don't believe a person could live on year-round and be content. It would depend upon the person, of course. If it were a lady, yourself, for instance, could it be made anyway tolerable, do you think? Of course, one might get away now and then. I don't know. It's not easy to tell beforehand how people are going to feel, but I can't imagine the High Valley ever seeming like a prison, replied Clover, vexed to find herself blushing and yet unable to help it. Choff's manner had such an odd intensity in it. If I were sure that you could realize what it would be, he began impetuously, then quieting himself, but you don't. How could you? Range life is well enough in summer for a short time by way of a frolic, but in winter and spring, Mr. Upper Canyon full of snow and the road down muddy and slippery and the storms and short days and the sense of being shut in and lonely, it would be a dismal place for a lady. Nobody has a right to expect a woman to undergo such a life. Clover absorbed herself in her suing. She did not speak, but still the deep, uncomfortable plush burned on her cheeks. What do you think? Persisted Choff, wouldn't it be inexcusable selfishness in a man to ask such a thing? I think, said Clover shyly and softly, that the man has a right to ask for whatever he wants and she paused. And what butch Choff bending forward? Well, a woman has always the right to say no, if she doesn't want to say yes. You tempt me awfully, cried Choff, starting up when I think what this place is going to seem like after you have gone and what the range will be is all the hard taken from it and the loneliness may twice as long by comparison, I grow desperate and feel as if I could not let you go without at least risking the question. But Clover, let me call you so this once. No woman would consent to such a life unless she cared very much for a man. Could you ever love me well enough for that, do you think? It seems to me a very unfair sort of question to put, said Clover, with a mischief as clean and her usually soft eyes. I suppose I said I could and then you turned round and remarked that you were ever so sorry that you couldn't reciprocate my feelings. Clover, catching her hand, how can you torment me so? Is it necessary that I should tell you that I love you with every bit of my heart that is in me and need you and want you and long for you, but have never dared to hope that you could want me, loveliest, sweetest, I do, and I always shall, whether it is yes or no? Then Choff, if you feel like that, if you are quite sure you feel like that, I think. What do you think, dearest? I think that I could be very happy, even in winter, in the High Valley. And Papa and the children and the lonely and faraway feelings, there was never a mention of them in this frank acceptance. Oh, Clover, Clover, circumstances do alter cases. Mrs. Hope's rubber of vista seemed a long one, fulfilled did not get home till a quarter before eleven, by which time the two by the fire had settled the whole process of their future lives, while the last logs of the pinion wood crackled, smoldered, and at length broke apart into flaming prints. In imagination, the little ranch house had thrown out as many wings and as easily as a newly hatched dragonfly, had been beautified and made convenient in all sorts of ways. A flower garden had sprouted around its base, plenty of room had been made for Papa and the children and Katie and Ned, who were to come out continually for visits in the long, lovely summers. They, themselves, were to go to and fro to burn it, and still further afield overseas to the old Davenshire ranch which Choff remembered so fondly. How my mother and Isabelle with light in you, he said, and the squire, you are precisely the girl to take his fancy. We'll go over and see them as soon as we can, won't we, Clover? Clover listened delightedly to all these shims, but threw them all, like that young Irish lady who went over the marriage service with her lover, adding, at the end of every clause, provided my father gives his consent, she interposed a little running thread of protest. If Papa is willing, you know Choff, I can't really promise anything till I've talked with Papa. It was settled that until Dr. Kra had consulted, the affair was not to be called an engagement or spoken of to anyone. Only Clover asked Choff to tell Clarence all about it at once. The thought of Clarence was in truth, the one clouding her happiness just then. It was impossible to calculate how he would take the news. If it made him angry or very unhappy, if it broke up his friendship with Choff and perhaps interfered with their partnership so that one or the other of them must leave the high valley, Clover felt that it would grievously malign her contentment. There was no use in planning anything till they knew how he would feel and act in any case she realized that they were bound to consider him before themselves and make it as easy and as little painful as possible. If he were vexatious, they must be patient. If sulky, they must be forbearing. Phil opened his eyes very wide at the pier sitting so closely over the fire when he at last came in. I say, have you been here all evening? he cried. Well, that's a sell. I wouldn't have gone out if I'd known. We have missed you very much, crushed Choff, and then he laughed as it's some extremely good joke. And Clover laughed too. You seem to have kept your spirits pretty well considering, remarked Phil Triley. Boys of 18 are not apt to enjoy jokes which do not originate with themselves. They are suspicious of them. I suppose I must go now, said Choff, looking at his watch. But I shall see you again before I leave. I will come in tomorrow, after I've met my man. All right, said Phil. I won't go till you come. O prey, don't feel obliged to stay in. I can't at all tell you when I shall be able to get through with the fellow. Come to dinner if you can, suggested Clover. Phil is sure to be at home then. Lavers are like ostriches. Choff went away just shaking hands casually and was very particular to say, Miss Carr. And he and Clover felt that they had managed so skillfully and concealed the secret so well. Yet the first remark made by Phil as the door shut was, Choff seems queer tonight somehow. And so do you, what have you been talking about all evening? An observant younger brother is a difficult fact in a love affair. Two days passed. Clover looked in vain for a note from the high valley to say how Clarence had borne the revelation and she grew more nervous with every hour. It was absolutely necessary now to dismantle the house and she found a certain relief in keeping exceedingly busy. Somehow the break-up had lost its inexplicable pain and a glad little voice sing all the time in her heart. I shall come back. I shall certainly come back. Papa will let me, I'm sure, when he knows Choff and how nice he is. She was at the dining table, grabbing a row of books and paper ready for packing when the steps sounded. In glancing round, she saw Clarence himself standing in the doorway. He didn't look angry as she had feared he might be unmoody and though he avoided her eye at first, his face was resoluted and kind. Choff has told me, were his first words, I know from what he said to you and he too, I fear that I shall make myself disagreeable, so I have come to say that I shall do nothing of the kind. Dear Clarence, that wasn't what Choff meant, or I either, said Clover with a rush of relief and holding out both her hands to him, what we were afraid of was that you might be unhappy. Well, in a husky tone and holding a little hands very tight, it isn't easy of course to give up a hope. I've heard unto mine all this time, though I've told myself a hundred times that there was a fool for doing so and though I knew in my heart it was no use. Now I've had two days to think it over and get past the first shock and, Clover, I've decided. You and Choff are the best friends I've got in the world. I never seem to make friends somehow, till you came to hear us over the time nobody liked me much. I don't know why. I can't get along without you two, so I give you up without any hard feeling and I mean to be as jolly as I can about it. After all, to have you at High Valley will be a sort of happiness, even if you don't come for my sake exactly with an attempt at a laugh. Clarence, you really are a dear boy. I can't tell you how I thank you and how I admire you for being so nice about this. Then that's where something too. I do a great deal to win your approval, Clover, so it's all settled. Don't worry about me or be afraid that I shall spoil your comfort with sour looks. If I can't find a can stand it, I'll go away for a while. But I don't think it will come to that. You'll make a real home out of the ranch house and you'll let me have my share of your life and be a brother to you and Choff and I'll try to be a good one. Clover was touched to the heart by these mindful words so gently spoken. You shall be our special brother always, she said. Only this was needed to make me quite happy. I am so glad you don't want to go away and leave us or to have us leave you. We'll make the ranch over into the dearest little home in the world and be so cozy there all together and Papa and the other shall come out for visits and you'll like them so much, I know, Elsie especially. Does she look like you? Not a bit, she's ever so much prettier. I don't believe a word of that. Clover's heart being touched lightened of this only burden by this treaty of mutual enmity she proceeded joyously with her packing. Mrs. Hope said she was not half sorry enough to go away and Papi upgraded her as a gay deceiver without any conscience or affections. She laughed and protested and denied but looked so radiantly satisfied the while as to give her fair color for her friend's accusations especially as she could not explain the reasons for her contentment or hint at her hopes of return. Mrs. Hope probably had her suspicions for she was rather urgent with Clover to leave this thing and that for safekeeping in case you ever come back but Clover declined his offers and resolutely packed up everything with a foolish little superstition that it was better luck to do so and that Papa would like it better. Quite a little group of friends assembled at the railway station to see her and feel set off. They were leagued with flowers and fruit and natural soda water they switched to beguiled a long journey and with many good wishes and affectionate hopes that they might return some day. Something tells me that you will. Mrs. Hope declared, I feel it in my bones and they hardly ever deceive me. Something tells me you must, cried Papi, embracing Clover but I'm afraid it isn't bones or anything prophetic but only the fact that I want you to so very much. From amidst these fervors Clover's eyes crossed the valley and sought out Mount Cheyenne. How differently I should be feeling she sought if this were going away with no real hope of coming back I could hardly have born to look at you had that been the case. You dear beautiful thing but I am coming back to live close beside you always and oh how glad I am. Is that goodbye to Cheyenne? Ask Marian, catching a little wave of a hand. Yes, it is goodbye but I've promised him that it shall soon be how do you do again? Mount Cheyenne and I understand each other. I know you've always had a sentimental attachment to that mountain. Now Pike's peak is my affinity. We get them beautifully together. Pike's peak indeed. I'm ashamed of you. Then the train moved away amid the flood of handkerchiefs but still Clover and Phil never left to themselves. For Dr. Hope, who had a consultation in Denver was to see them safely off in the night express and Choff had some real or invented business which made it necessary for him to go also. Clover carried with her through all the three days ride the lingering pressure of Choff's hand and his whispered promise to come on soon. It made the long ways him short but when they arrived amid all the kisses and rejoicings the exclamations of a fierce look of hair and vigor the girls intense interest in all that Cheyenne had done Papa's warm approval of her management her secret began to burn killed the lilies in her. What would they all say when they knew? And what did they say? I think few of you will be at their loss to guess. Life, real life as well as life in storybooks is full of such jocks and surprises. They are half happy, half unhappy but they have to be born. Young assisters till their own turns come are apt to take a severe view of marriage plans and to Phil that they gruelly interrupt the past order of seeing Switch so far as they are concerned need no improvement. And parents who say less and understand better suffer perhaps more. To be or to rear to lose is the order of family history generally unexpected always recurring. But true love is not selfish. In time it decustoms itself to anything which secures happiness for its object. Dr. Cardid confided to Katie in a moment of private explosion that he wished the Great West had never been invented and that such a prohibitory tax could be laid upon young Englishmen as to make it impossible that another one should ever be landed on our shores. But he had never in his life refused clover anything upon which she had set her heart. And he saw in her eyes that her heart was very much set on this. John and Alice is cold and cried and then in time began to talk of their future visits to High Valley till they grew to anticipate them and berate in a hurry for them to begin. Choff's arrival completed their conversion. Nicer than that, Johnny pronounced him. And even Dr. Carr was forced to confess that the sons-in-law which fated provided him with a superior sort. Only he wished they didn't want to marry his girls. Phil from first to last was in favor of the plan and the firm LA to the lovers. He had grown extremely western in his ideas and was persuaded in his mind that this old East as it turned it with its puny possibilities did not amount to much and that as soon as he was old enough to shape his own destinies, he should return to the only section of the country versed to attention of a young man of parts. Meanwhile, he was perfectly well again and willing to comply with his father's desire that before he made any positive arrangements for his future, he should get a sound and sorrow education. So you're actually going out to the wild and barbarous west to live on a ranch, milk-house, chase the wild buffalo to its lair and hold the tiger kept by its favorite furlough. Outro's red. What was that you were saying only the other day about nice convenient husbands who grew up for long good times and leave their wives comfortably at home with their own families? And here you are planning to marry a man who, whenever he's not galloping off the cattle, will be in your pocket at home. Oh, Clover Clover, how inconsistent this thing is, woman, not to say girl. And what havoc a queer dietinium cubit does make with preconceived opinions. I did think I could rely on you, but you are just as bad as the rest of us. And when the lad whistles, you go off after him. However, he happens to lead and think it is the best possible thing to do so. It's a mad world, my master's. And I am thankful that Rosalind is only four and a half years old. And Clover's answer was one line on a postal card. Guilty, but recommended to Mercy. End of chapter 11, recording by Ellie, September 2009. End of Clover by Susan Coolidge.