 CHAPTER ONE OF IN THE HIGH VALLEY It was the morning of late May, and the sunshine to rather watery, after the fashion of south of England's suns, was real sunshine still and clinted and clitted briefly on the dew-soaked fields above cobblestone range. This was an ancient house of red brick dating back to the last half of the 16th century and still bearing testimony in its sturdy bulk to the honest and durable work put upon it by its builders. Not the choice to bend, not the girder started in the long course of its 200 and odd years of life. The brickwork of its twisted chimney stakes was intact and the stone carving over its doorways and window frames. Only the immense cross of the ivy on its side walls attested to its age. It takes longer to build ivy five feet thick than many castles. And though new masonry, patric and artifice made to look old, there is no secret known to man by which a plant or tree can be induced to stimulate an antiquity which does not rightfully belong to it. Enumerable sparrows and tomdits have burled in the sick meds of the old ivy and their cries and twitters blended in shrill and happy chorus as they flew in and out of their nests. The cringe had been a place of importance in Queen Elizabeth's time as the home of an old, driven family which was finally run out and extinguished. It was now a little more than a superior sort of farmhouse. The broad acres of meadow and blessure in St. Woodland which had given its consequence in former days had been gradually parted with as misfortunes and losses came to its original owners. The woods had been felt, the blessure grounds now made part of other people's farms and the once wide domain had contracted until the ancient house stood only a few acres about it and was something the heir of an old-time barrel who has been forcibly divested of an ample farting gill and hoop petticoat and made to wear the scant curdle of a village maid. Orchards of pea and apple flanked the building to east and west. Behind was a field or two, crowning a little upland where the date-cows fed the murely and in front toward the south which was the site of entrance lay a narrow walled garden with box-bodied beds full of early flowers, mimulo sweet-pissed mignonnets stocked jealous and blushing the musk roses, carefully tended and making a blaze of color on the face of the bright morning. The whole front of the house was draped with a luxuriant wine of gloity to show, whose long pink yellow buds and cream-flashed cups send wafts of delicate sweetness with every puff of wind. Seventy years before the main morning of which we ride the cobblestone range had fallen the public sail to Edward Young, a well-to-do banker of Bedford. He was a descendant in direct line to the dwelly and young who, together with his fellow seamen pros, undertook the dangerous task of steering down and igniting the seven fire ships which sent the spanish mother lumbering off to sea and saved England for Queen Elizabeth and the protestant's succession. Edward Young lived twenty years in peace and honor to enjoy his purchase and his oldest son James, who now reigned in his stead having reared within the old walls a numerous brood of sons and daughters, thus scattered over the surface of the world in general after this dirty British fashion, till only three of her remained at home, waiting the turn to fly. One of these now stood at the gate. It was Imogen Young, oldest but one of the four daughters. She was evidently waiting for someone and waiting rather impatiently. We shall certainly be late, she said aloud, it's quite too bad of Lyon, then glancing at the silver watch in her belt she began to call, Lyon, Lyonel, oh Lyon, do make haste, it's gone twenty past and we shall never be there in time. Coming, shouted a voice from an upper window, I am just washing my hands, coming in a chivvy moggy. Chivvy, afterward Imogen, how very American Lyon has got to be, he is always guessing and calculating and reckoning. It seems as if he did it on purpose to startle and annoy me, I suppose one has to get used to it if you are over there, but rarely it's beastly bad form and I shall keep on telling Lyon so. She was not a pretty girl, but neither was she an ill-looking one. Neither tall nor very slender, a vigorous little figure had still a certain charm of trim erectness and useful grace, though Imogen was twenty-four and considered herself very stead and grown-up. A fresh rosy skin, beautiful hair of a warm chestnut color with a natural wave in it and clear, honest blue eyes and fathered tone for a thick nose, a white mouse and front teeth which projected slightly and seemed a size too large for the face to which they belonged. Her dress did nothing to assist her looks. It was woolen of an unbecoming shade of yellowish gray. It fitted badly and the complicated loops and hitches of the skirt bespoke a fashion sometimes since passed by among those who were particularised to such matters. The effect was not assisted by a pork pie head of black straw, trimmed with green feathers and pink ribbon from which depended a silver locket, a burst of deep magenta red, yellow gloves and an umbrella-bright navy blue in tint. She had over her arm a purplish waterproof and her six solid boots could defy the matter of a native shire. Lion, lion, she called again and this time a tall young fellow responded, running rapidly down the path to join her. He was two years her junior, vigorous alert and boyish with a fresh skin and tiny waving hair like her own. How long you've been, she cried reproachfully. Grief to have kept you miss, was the reply. You see, since when contrary I like, the grays got all over me when I was cleaning the guns and cold water wouldn't take it off and that old Saunders took his time about bringing the can of hot till at last rushed down and fetched up myself from the copper. You should have seen the cook's face. Fancy master Lionel, says she, coming yourself for the water. I tell you, Moggy, Saunders is past his usefulness. He's a regular duffer, a gump. There's another American expression. Saunders is the most respectable man, I'm sure, and has been in the family 31 years. Of course, he has a good deal to do just now with the backing and all. Now Lion, we shall have to walk smartly if we are to get there at half after. All right, here goes for a spin then. The brother and sister walked rapidly down the winding road in the half-shadow of the bordering hedges. Real Davenshire hedge-roasted were. The witch and the laughler in England, rising eight and ten feet overhead on either side and topped with delicate flickering birch and ashbows, blowing in the fresh wind. Below were sick rows of horsemen, white and pink, and wild white roses in full flower interspersed with maple tips as red as blood. The whole interlaced and held together with sick wist and tangles of ivory, prying and revelor's joy. Beneath them the count was drawn with flowers. While lets and king-cups pop his red champions and blue iris. While tall spikes of rose-colored foxcloths rose from among the ranks of mast ferns, break hearts, tongue, and maidens' hair. Here and there a splendid cross of osmond-roar. To sight and smell the hedge-rose were equally delightful. Cobblestone cringe stood three miles west of Bitford, and the house to which the youngs were going was close above Glovelly, so that the distance of some seven miles separated them. To walk this twice for the sake of lunching with a friend would seem to most young Americans to form a tabular task, to be at all worthwhile, but to our sturdy English pair it presented no difficulties. On the vent, lightly and steadily, emochan's elastic steps keeping easy pace with a brother's longer tread. There was a good deal of up-and-down hill to get over this, and whenever the top-to-rise, green-downs ending in wooded cliffs could be seen to the left, and beyond and below an expanse of white-flecked, shimmering sea. A salt wind from the channel blew in their faces, full of coolness and refreshment, and there was no dust. I suppose she'll never see the ocean, from where we are to live, said emochan with a sigh. Well hardly, considering it's about fifteen hundred miles away. Fifteen hundred, or lion, you are surely exaggerating, why the whole of England is not so large as that from lands and to John O'Groats' house. I should say not, nothing like it, well, Moggy, you have no idea how small our right-little, tight-little island really is. You could set a down-plump in some of the states, New York, for instance, and there would be quite a tidy fringe of territory left around it. Of course, morally, we are the standard of size for all the world, but geographically, few. Our size is little, but our hearts are great. I think it's valga to be so big, not that I believe half you say lion. You have been over in America so long, and grown such a Yankee, that you swallow everything they choose to tell you. I've always heard about American break. My dear, there's no need to break when the facts are there, staring you in the face. It is a matter of feet and inches. Anyone can do the measurement with a tape line. Wait till you see it. And as for it's being valga to be big, why is it the right-little, tight-little always stretching out her arms to open new territory in that case? I should like to know. It would be much elegant to keep herself to home. Oh, don't talk that sort of rot. I hate to hear you. I must, when you talk that kind of... Well, let's say rubbish. Rot is one of our choice terms which hasn't got over to the States yet. You are as opinionated and narrow as the little island itself. What do you know about America anyway? Did you ever see an American in your life, child? Yes, several. I saw Buffalo Bill last year, and lots of Indians and cowboys whom we fetched over. And I saw Professor... Professor, what was his name? I forget, but he lectured on phrenology, and then there was Mrs. Choff's temple store. Oh, Mrs. Choff, she's a different sort. Buffalo Bill and his show can hardly be treated as specimens of American society, and neither can your bumpman. But she's a fair sample of the nice kind, and you liked her. Now didn't you? You know you did. Well, yes, I did. Admitted emoji and rather crudgingly. She was really quite nice in good form and all that, and Isabel said she was by far in the way the best sister-in-law yet, and the squire took such a fancy to her that it was quite remarkable. But she cannot be used as an argument, for she's not in the least like the American girls in the books. She must have had unusual advantages, and after all, nice as she was, she wasn't English. And there was a difference somehow. You felt it, though. You couldn't exactly say what it was. No, thank goodness. She isn't. That's just the beauty of it. Why should all the world be just alike? And for books, do you mean? And for girls? There are all kinds on the other side. I can tell you. Wait till you get over to the High Valley and you'll see. This sort of discussion had become habitual of late between the brother and sister, three years before Lionel had gone out to Colorado to look about and see how a ranging suited him, as he phrased it, and had decided that he'd suited him exactly. He had served as sort of apprenticeship to Choffrey Templestowe, the son of an old Devonshire neighbour who had settled in a place called High Valley and together with his two partners, he built up a flourishing and lucrative cattle business, owning a large tract of grazing territory in Great Hurts. One of the partners was now transferred to New Mexico, where the firm online also, and Mr. Young had advanced money to buy Lionel, who was now competent to begin for himself a share in the business. He was now going out to remain permanently and Imogen was going also to keep his house and make a home for him till he should be ready to marry and settle down. All over the world, there are good English sisters doing this sort of thing. In Australia and New Zealand, they can be found in Canada and India and the trans-world, wherever English boys are sent to advance their fortunes. Had the destination been Canada or Australia, Imogen would have found no difficulty in adjusting her ideas to it, but the United States were terra incognita. Knowing absolutely nothing about them, she had constructed out of a fertile fancy and very few facts, an altogether imaginary America, not at all like the real one. People by strange folk, quite on English and their ideas and ways, and very hard to understand and live with. In vain did Lionel protest and explain, his remonstrances were treated as proofs of the degenerence and blindness induced by life in the States, and to all his appeals, she opposed the calm obstinate disbelief, which is the weapon of a limited intellect and experience, and is harder to deal with than the most passionate convictions. Unknown to herself, a little sting of underlying jealousy tinged her disopinience. For many years, Isabel Templestowe had been her favorite friend, the person she most admired and looked up to. They had been at school together. Isabel always taking the lead in everything, Imogen following and imitating. The Templestowe's were better born than the Young's. They took a higher place in the country. It was a distinction, as well as a tender pleasure to be intimate in the house. Once advised, Isabel had gone to a merit system in London in the midst of the season. No such chance had ever fallen to Imogen's lot, but it was next best to get letters, and hear from Isabel all that she had seen and done, thus sharing the choice at second hand as it were. Isabel had other intimates, some of whom were more to her than Imogen could be, but they lifted the distance and Imogen closed at hand. Propinquity plays a large part in friendship, as well as love. Imogen had no other intimate, but she knew too little of Isabel's other interests and was quite happy in her position as nearest and closest confidant until four years before Choffrey Templestowe came home for a visit, bringing with him his American wife, whose name before her marriage had been Clover Carr, and whom some of you who read this will recognize as an old friend. Young, sweet, pretty and very happy and horribly well dressed is poor Imogen in her secret soul admitted. Clover easily and quickly won the liking of her people-in-law. Old outlying sons and daughters who were in their reach came home to make her acquaintance and all were charmed with her. The squire petted and made much of his new daughter and could not say enough in her praise. Mrs. Templestowe heard that she was as good as she was pretty and as sensible as if she had been born and brought up in England. And worst of all, Isabel for the time of this day was perfectly absorbed in Choffrey and Clover and though kind and affectionate when they met had little or no time to spend on Imogen. She and Clover were of nearly the same age, each had a thousand interesting things to tell the other. Both were devoted to Choffrey. It was natural and inevitable that they should draw together. Imogen confessed to herself that it was only right that they should do so, but it hurt all the same. And it still was a sore spot in her heart that Isabel should love Clover so much and they should write such long letters to each other. She was a conscientious girl and she fought against the feeling and tried hard to forget it, but it was their all the same. The feet of the two walkers had taken them past hoops in and to the opening of a rough shady lane which made a short cut to the ground to so many as the Templestor's Place was called. They entered by a private gate opened by Imogen with a kivici carrot and found themselves on the slope of the hill over hung with magnificent old beaches. Further down the slope became steeper and narrow to form a sharp chin which cut the cliff sewer to the water's edge. The manor house stood on a natural plateau at the head of the ravine whose deep green sides made a frame for the beautiful pictured command of Landy Island, rising in bold outlines over 70 miles of blue-tossing sea. The brother and sister paused for a moment to look for the hundreds time at this exquisite glimpse. Then they ran lightly down over the grass to where the intersecting gravel pass led to the door. It stood hospitably open affording a few of the entrance hall. Such a beautiful old hall built in the time of the Tudors with the great carven fireplace Mali and windows in deep square base and the ceiling carved with fence, shields and roses. Pro-bots stood on the cells full of rose leaves and spices huge antlers and trophies of weapons adorned the walls and the polished floor almost black with age shown like a looking glass. Beyond opened a drawing room low ceiling and equally grained in belt the furniture seemed as old as the house. There was nothing with the modern air about it except some Indian curiosities a water color too photographs of the family and fresh flowers in the vases. But the sun shone in there was a great sense of peace and stillness and beside a little wooden fire which burned gently and did not hysterical as it might have done elsewhere said the lovely old lady whose fresh and peaceful and kindly face seemed the center from which all the home look and comfort streamed. She was knitting a long silk stocking a volume of muddy sleigh on her knee and the sky terrier blue fussy and sleepy had curled himself luxuriously in the folds of her dress. This was Mrs. Templestowe Choff's mother and Clover's mother-in-law she jumped up almost as lightly as a girl to welcome the visitors. Take your head off my dear, she said to Imogen I would rather run up to Isabel's room she was here just now but her father called her off to consult about something in the hot house he won't keep her long, ah there she's now as a figure fleshed by the window I knew she would be here directly. Another second and Isabel hurried in a tall slender girl with thick fair hair, blue eyes with dark lashes in the look of breeding and distinction her dress very simply cut suited her and had that undefinable air of being just right which a good London tailor knows how to give she wore no ornaments but Imogen who had felt rather well dressed when she left home suddenly hated her gown and hat realized that her belt and ribbon did not agree and wished for the dozens time that she had the neck of getting the right thing which Isabel possessed. Her clothes is corporate here all the time and might get uglier, she reflected the squire says she got points for Mrs. Choff and that the Americans know how to dress if they don't know anything else but that's nonsense of course Isabel always did know how she didn't need anyone to teach her pretty soon they've all seated at luncheon a hearty and substantial meal as befitted the needs of people who had just taken a 7 mile walk a great round of cold beefs to the one end of the table, a chicken pie on the other and there were early peas and potatoes a huge cherry tart, a chunk at equally large strawberries in various cakes and pastries meant to be eaten with the smooth of the delicacy peculiar to Davenshire clotted cream everybody was very hungry and not much was said till the first rate of appetite was satisfied ah, said the squire as he filled his glass with emboyed cider you don't get anything so good as this to drink over in America, Lionel indeed we do, sir we taste our lemonade made of natural soda water lemonade? phew, poor stuff I call it cold and sin, I hope Choffee's some better tipper than that to cheer him in the high valley iced water, suggested Lionel mischievously don't talk to me about iced water it's worse than lemonade it's the perpetual use of ice which makes the Americans so nervous I'm convinced but Papa, are you so nervous? Clover certainly isn't my little Clover, no, she wasn't nervous she was nothing that she ought not be I call her as sweet as less as any country need want to see but Clover's no example, there aren't many like her fancy, a lion? well, squire, she's not the only one of the sort there her sister who married Mr. Page our other partner you know is quite as pretty as she is, quite as nice too though in a different way and then there's the oldest one, the wife of the naval officer, I'm not sure but you would like her the best of the three, she's a rip and lux, tall you know there's lots of go and energy and yet the sweet and formaliest can be you'd like her very much, you'd like all of them how is there a married one? don't I think they call her? ask Mrs. Templestowe oh, said Lionel rather confused I don't know so much about her, she's only once been out of the valley since I was there she seems an iced girl and certainly she's mighty pretty Lion's blushing, remarked Imogen is thus blushed and he speaks of that miscar rot, muttered Lionel with a restful look at his sister I do nothing of that kind but squire, when are you coming over to see for yourself how you look and behave I think you and the madam would enjoy a summer in the high valley very much and it would be no end of luck to have you Isabel would like it of all things oh, I know I should I would start tomorrow if I could I'm coming across to make glow and Imogen a long visit, the first moment Papa and Mama can spare me that will be a long time to wait that her mother sadly, since Mr. Messius married and carried off poor health children, the houses seem so silent that expect for you it would hardly be worthwhile to get up in the morning we can't spare you a present dear child I know Mama, the shell never go till you can, the perfect thing would be that we should all go together yes, if it were not for the dreadful voyage oh, the voyage is nothing, broken repressible Lionel, you just take some pearls I forgot the name of them but they make you safe and not be sick and then you are across before you know it the ships are very comfortable, electric bells, well-shrapped at the bedtime and all that you know fancy Mama with a well-shrapped at the bedtime Mama, who cannot even hold down the gallantry on the smoothest day without being upset, you must bait your hook with something else Lionel, if you hope to catch her how would the tree fall off Gloverleaf's answer, with a smile she choffed the boy ah, the dear baby, I wish I could see the little fellow, he's so pretty in his picture, set me his temperstall that bait would land me if anything could Lionel, by the way, there are some little parcels for them, which I saw perhaps you have made room for, Imogen yes indeed, I'll carry anything with pleasure, now I'm afraid we must be going, Mama wants me to step down to Gloverleaf as a message for the landlady of the new inn, and I've set my heart upon walking once more to Gallantre flower, can't you come with us, Isabel it would be so nice if you could and it's my last chance of course I will, I'll be right in five minutes if you can't stay any longer these three friends were soon on their way under a low hung sky which looked near and threatening, the beautiful morning was flat, we had better cut down into the hobby grounds and get under the trees for I think it's going to be wet, said Imogen the suggestion proved the wise one for before they emerged from the shelter of the woods, it was raining smartly and the girls were glad of the waterproofs and umbrellas, Lionel with hands in pockets strode on disdaining what he was pleased to call a little local shower, you should see how a person called Laredo remarked that this was calling rain, immense no one would feel perfectly at home in it the text of three pens each person by which strangers went geniusly made to contribute to the local charities was not excited of them at the new road gate on the strength of their being residents and personal friends of the owners of Glovelly Court, a few steps further brought them to the top of the zigzag pass sloping sharply downward at an angle of 65 degrees paved with broad stones and flaked on either sides by houses, no two of which occupied the seam level and which seemed to realize the precarious footing and hugged the rift in which they were planted as limpets hugged a rock this was the so called Glovelly street and surely a more extraordinary thing in the way of the street in the known world, the little village is built on the sides of a creek in a tremendous cliff, the street is merely the bottom of the creek into which the ingenuity of men has fitted a few stones such land wise is intersecting riches on which the foot can catch as it goes slipping hopelessly down even the breakfast walker's descent is difficult, especially when the stones are wet, the party from Stover familiar with the past and had drawn it many times, but even they picked their steps and went delicately like king gag holding up umbrellas in one hand and with the either catching at garden palings and the edges of doorsteps to save themselves from pitching headlong while beside them little boys and girls with the agility of long practice went down merrily almost at the run, the heavy flat bottomed shoes making a clap-claping noise as they descended like the strokes of a melaton wood looking up and above the quaint tenements deported the street, other houses equally quaint could be seen on either side, rising above each other the cliff in whose midst the craig which held the village is set, how it had ever entered into the mind of men to utilize such a place for such a purpose it was hard to conceive the eccentricity of level was endless gardens topped roofs, gooseberry bushes and plum trees seem growing out of chimneys, tall trees rose apparently from rich poles and here and there against the sky appeared extraordinary wooden figures of colossal size, mermaids and britainias and bale savages, figureheads of forgotten ships which old sea captains out of commission had set up in their gardens to remind them of perils past the weather-beaten little houses looked centuries old and all had such an air of having been washed accidentally into their places by a great tidal wave the vines and flowers which overhung them affected the newcomer with the sense of surprise, down when the three slipping and sliding catching on and recovering themselves till they came to a small, low-broad building dating back for a couple of centuries or so they were new in, old and new have a local meaning of their own in globally which does not exactly apply anywhere else up two steps that passed into a narrow entry is the parlor on one side and on the other a comfortable sort of housekeeper's room where a fire was placing in a grate with white hops both rooms as well as the entry were hung with plates, dishes, platters and poles set sickly on the walls in groups of tents and scores in double-squares as suited their shape and color the same ceramic decoration ran upstairs and pervaded the homes above more or less a more modern brick building on the opposite side of the street which was the annex of the inn was equally full hundreds and hundreds of plates and sources and cups English and Delfd were chiefly in blue and white in color it had been the landlady's hobby for years past to fund this collection of china and it was now for sale to anyone who might care to buy Isabel and Lionel ran to and fro examining the great wall of china as he turned it while coming out as Aaron to the landlady then they started again to mount the hill which was an easier task than going down passing on the way two or three parties of tourists holding on to each other and shrieking and exclaiming and being passed by a mini-dunky with two sole leather trunks long on one side of him and on the other a mountainous heap of handbags and releases this is the only creature on four legs bigger than a dog that ever gets down the globally street and why he does not lose his balance topple backward and go holding continuously down till he falls into the sea below nobody can imagine but the valley and little animal kept steadily on assisted by his owner who followed and the city as they vect him is a stout stick and he reached the top much sooner than any of his pipette following one cannot have too many legs in globally a centipede would find himself at an uncommon advantage at the top of the street is the yellow regate through which our party passed into lovely park grounds topping a line of fine cliffs led to Gelland Reboa this is the name given to enormous headland which falls into the sea with a sheer descent of nearly 400 feet and forms the western boundary of the globally roadstead the pass was charmingly laid out with spurts of woodland and clumps of flowering shrubs here and there was a seat or a rustic summer house commanding views of the sea now a deep intense blue for the rain had ceased as suddenly as it came and brought yellow rays for streaming over the wet grass and trees whose green was dazzling in its freshness Imogen drew in a long press of the salt wind and looked wistfully about her at the vivid turf delicate shimmer of blowing leaves in the tossing ocean as if trying to photograph each detail in her memory I shall see nothing so beautiful over there she said, the old Devonshire there is nothing like it Colorado is even better than the old Devonshire declared her brother wait till you see Pikes Peak wait till I drive you through the North Cheyenne canon but Imogen took her head incredulously Pikes Peak she answered with an air of scorn the name is enough I never want to see it Well, you girls are good walkers must be confessed, said Larnel as they emerged on the crossing of the Bitford Road where they must separate Isabel looks as fresh as paint that Moggy hasn't turned her hair I don't think Mrs. Choff could stand such a walk or any of her family oh no indeed, Glover would feel half killed if she were asked to undertake a 60 mile walk I remember when she was here it just went down to the pier at Gloverley for a row on the bay and back through the hobby 6 miles in all perhaps and she was quite done up, poor dear and had to go on the sofa I can't think the American girls are no better walkers though there was the Miss Eppelton who met the Zermatt who went up the Mata Horn and didn't make much of it goodbye Imogen I shall come over before your start in Fetch Mama's parcels End of chapter 1, recording by Ellie September 2009 Chapter 2 of In the High Valley This is a LibreVox recording All LibreVox recordings are in the public domain For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibreVox.org Recording by Ellie In the High Valley by Susan Coolidge Chapter 2, Miss Obdike from New York The next week was a busy one Backing had begun and what was Mrs. Young's motherly desire to provide her children convenience for the new home and Imogen's rooted conviction that nothing could be found in Colorado were spying and that it was essential to carry out all the tapes and sewing silk and buttons and shoes red and shoes and stationery and cord blaster and cotton cloths and medicines that she and Lionel could possibly require during the next five years it promised to be a long job Invading Lionel Remonstrate and assuring his sister that every one of these things could be had equally valid and some of them went almost every day and that extra baggage cost so much on the Pacific Railways that the price of such commodities would be nearly doubled before she got them safely to the High Valley Now, what can be the use of taking two pounds of pins for example he protested, pins are as plenty as blackberries in America and all these spools of thread too Reels of cotton, do you mean? I wish you would speak English at least while we are in England Why wouldn't there go without plenty of such things? American cotton isn't as good as ours I've always been told that Well, it's good enough as you'll find and do make a place for something pretty a few nice tea cups for instance and some things to hold flowers and some curtain stuffs for the windows and photographs Choff and Mrs. Choff have made the house awfully nice, I can tell you Americans think a deal of that sort of thing all this haberdashery and hardware is ridiculous you'll be sorry enough that you didn't listen to me before you're through with it Mother has packed some capsule ready I believe and I'll take that white mint and chai if you like, but really I shouldn't think delicate things like that wouldn't be at all suitable in a place like Colorado where people must rough it as we are going to do you are so infatuated about the America line that I can't trust your opinion at all I've been there and you haven't was all that Lionel urged in answer it seemed an incontrovertible argument but Imogen with no attempt to overthrow it she only pecked on according to her own ideas quite unconvinced it lacked only 5 days of the setting out when she and her brother walked into Bedford one afternoon for some last errands it was too now and the south of England was at its freshest and fairest the meadows along the margin of the torridge were the richest green the hillslopes above them were a bloom of soft color each quartier than garden shimmered with the gold of the burnums or the purple and white of clustering climates and the scent of flowers came with every puff of air as they passed up one side street the carriage with three strange ladies and it drove by them it stopped at the door of the new inn as quaint and bold and even older than the new inn of Glovelly the ladies got out and one of them to Imogen's great surprise came forward and extended her hand to Lionel Mr. Young? It's Mr. Young, isn't it? You have quite forgotten me, I fear Mrs. Page. We met at St. Terence two years ago when I stopped to see my son. Let me introduce you to my daughter, the contest Conflore, the Miss Optike of New York. Lionel could do no less than stop shake hands and present his sister where upon Mrs. Page urged them both to come in for a few minutes and have a cup of tea. We are here only till the evening train, she explained just to see Westford Hall and get the glimpse of the Emmaus Lake Country and I want to ask any quantity of questions about Clarence and his wife what? You are going out to the High Valley next week and your sister too? Or that makes it absolutely impossible for me to let you off you really must come in. There are so many messages I should like to send and a cup of tea would be a nice rest for Miss Young after her long walk. It isn't long at all protested Imogen, but Mrs. Page could not be gained said the way upstairs to a sitting home with a bay window overlooking the windings of the torch which was crammed with grained craft furniture of all sorts. There were buffets, cabinets, secretaries, delightful old cloth with the tables and sofas and chairs whose backs and arms were a mass of griffins and heraldic emblems. Old Oak was the speciality of the landlady of this new inn, it seemed as Blue China was of the other. For years she had attended sales, poked about in farmhouses and attics, till little by little she had accumulated an astonishing collection. Many of the pieces were quite genuine antiques, but some had been reconstructed under her own eye from wood equally venerable. Pure ends and fragments of root screens purchased from a dismantled and ruined church, the effect was both picturesque and unusual. Mrs. Page seated her guests in two wide high-backed chairs rang for tea and began to question Lionel about affairs in the high valley, while Imuchan still under the influence of surprise at finding herself calling on these strangers, clans curiously the younger ladies of the party. The contested con floor was still young and evidently had been very pretty, but she had worn this satisfied air and did not look happy. Imuchan learned afterward that her marriage which was considered a triumph and the kind of fair when it took place had not turned out very well. Cont eneste con floor was rather a black sheep in some respects, had a strong forebeckered and rouge noir and spent so much of his price money at these amusement during the first year of the life together that her friends became alarmed and their interference brought about a sort of immeacable separation. Cont eneste lived in Washington, received a specified sum out of his wife's income and she was travelling indefinitely in Europe to her mother. It was no wonder that she did not look satisfied and content. Miss Obdike of New York was quite different and attractive, sort Imuchan. She had never seen anyone in the least like her. Rather tall with a long slender throat, a waist of fabulous smallness and hand switch and against the suede did not seem more than two inches wide. She gave the impression of being as fragile in make and as delicately fibre as an exotic flower. She had pretty arched gray eyes, a skin as white as a magnolia blossom and a fluff of wonderful pale hair. Artlessly looped and pinned to look blown by accident into its place which yet exactly suited the face it framed. She was restless and vivacious. Her mobile mouse twitched with the hidden amusement every other moment. When she smiled, she wielded pearly teeth and a dimple and she smiled often. Her dress, apparently simple, was a wonderful fit and cut. A skirt of dark foreign brown, a blouse of ivory white silk, a liberately tucked in shirt. A cape of glossy brown fur whose high colour set off a pale vivid face and a picture head with the rest of plums. Emo-Chen, whose preconceived notion of an American girl included diamond earrings spotted morning, noon and night, observed with surprise that she won her ornaments except one slender bangle. She had in her hand a great bunch of yellow roses which exactly turned in with the ivory and brown of her dress and she played with these and smiled them as she sat on the high black oak settle and conscientiously or unconsciously made a picture of herself. She seemed as much surprised and entertained at Emo-Chen as Emo-Chen could possibly be at her. I suppose you run up to London often was her first remark. No, not often. In fact, Emo-Chen had been in London only once in the whole course of her life. Dear me, don't you? Why? How can you exist without it? I shouldn't think there would be anything to do here that was in the least amusing, not the thing. How do you spend your time? I? I don't know, I'm sure. There's always plenty to do. To do? Yes. But in the way of amusement I mean. Do you have many balls? Is there any gaity going on? Where do you find your man? No, we don't have balls often. But we have lawn parties and tennis and once a year there's a school feast. Oh yes, I know. Children and chincham frogs in pine or forest, eating puns and drinking mercantile water out of mugs. Rapturous fun it must be. But I think one might get tired of it in time. As for lawn parties I tried one in Fulham the other day and I don't want to go to any more in England, thank you. They never introduced the sultras. They bent plate out of tune and it was a stylish ditch water. Just very ill trice people wandering in and out and trying to look as if four sour strawberries on a plate and a symbol full of ice cream were bliss and high life and all the rest of it. The only thing really nice was the roses. Those were delicious. Lady Mary Ponsumbai gave me three to make up for not presenting anyone to me I suppose. Do you still keep up the old fashion of introductions in America set emoji and with calm superiority? It's quite gone out with us. We take it for granted that well-bred people will talk to the neighbors at parties and enjoy themselves well enough for the moment. And then they needn't be hampered with knowing them afterward. It saves a lot of complications not having to remember names about people. Yes, I know that's the theory, but they call it a custom introduced by the suppression of strangers. Of course, if you know all the people present or who they are it doesn't matter in the least. But if you don't it makes it a ghastly mockery to try to enjoy yourself at the party. But do tell me some about Bitford. I'm so curious about English country life. I've seen only London so far. Is it ever warm over here? Warm? Waitly? What do you mean? I mean warm. Perhaps the word is not known over here. That doesn't mean the same thing. England seems to me just one degree better than no assembler. The sun is in the imitation sun. He looks yellow like the real one when you see him, which isn't often. But he doesn't burn a bit. I've had a shiver steadily ever since we landed. She pulled her fur cape close about the ears as she spoke. Why? What can you want different from this? Asked Emo-chan surprised. It's a lovely day. We haven't had a drop of rain since last night. That is quite true and remarkable as true, but somehow I don't feel any warmer than I did when it rained. Ah, here comes the tea. Let me pour it with this page. I make awfully good tea. Such nice sick cream. But, oh dear, here is more of that awful bread. It was a stout household loaf of the sort invariable in South County, England. Substantial crusty and tough is an abalone on top and inconsistency something between pine wood and sole leather. Miss Optike, after filling her cups, proceeded to cut the loaf in slices, protesting as she did so that it creaked in the chewing and that the muscular strength that it gave to her jaw would last the rest of her life. Why, what sort of bread do you have in America? Demanded Emo-chan astonished and offended by the frankness of these strictures. This is the sort everyone eats here. I'm sure it's excellent. What is there about it that you don't like? Everything. Wait till you taste the American bread and you'll understand. Or rather, our breads, for we have dozens of kinds. Each more delicious than the last. Wait till you eat cornbread and waffles. I've always been told that American food was dreadfully messy, observed Emo-chan, netled into reprisals, pepper on eggs and all that sort of thing. Very messy and nasty, indeed. Well, we have deviated from the English method as to the eating of eggs, I admit. I know it's correct to chip the shell, and eat all the white at one end by itself with a little salt, and then all the yellow in the middle, and last of all the white at the other end by itself. But there are bold spirits among us who venture to stir and mix. Fools rush in, you know, but they will do it even when Britain's fear to tread. We stopped at Noa's Ham to see Sir Amaya Lay's house, with his page for seeing to Lionel. It's really very interesting to visit the spots where celebrated people have lived. There's a sad lack of such places in America. We are such a new country. Lily and Miss Obdike walked up the hill where Miss Lay stood to see the Spanish ship come in. Quite fascinating, they said it was. You must be sure to stay long enough in Boston to see the house where Silas Lempem lived. Put in the wicked Miss Obdike. One cannot see too much of places associated with famous people. I don't remember any such name in American history, but has the honest Emo-chan, Silas Lempem, who was he? A man in a novel, and Amia Lay is a man in another novel. Whisper Miss Obdike, with his page is on quite true about him, but she doesn't like to confess as frankly as you do. She has forgotten, and fancies that Lily lived in Queen Elizabeth's time, and the coachman was so solemnly sure that he did that it's not much wonder. I bought an old silver patch box in a jeweler's shop on High Street, and I am going to tell my sister that he belonged to the city. What an odd idea. We are full of odd ideas over in America, you know. Tell me something about the states, said Emo-chan. My brother is quite mad over Colorado, but he doesn't know much about the rest of it. I suppose the country about New York isn't very wild, is it? Not very. Returned Miss Obdike with a twinkle. The buffalo are rarely seen now, and only two men were scarred by Indians outside the walls of the city last year. Fancy, and how do you pass your time? Is it a gay place? Very. We pass our time doing all sorts of things. There is the current dance, and the green current dance, and the watermelon pow-wow of course. And besides these, we stayed back to the early days of the colony with more modern amusements. German opera, and Italian opera, and the theater, and subscription concerts. And then we have balls nearly every night in the season, and dinner parties and luncheons, and lectures and we study a good deal and slum a little. Last winter I belonged to a Greek class and a fencing class, and a quartet club, and two private dancing classes and a girls' working club, and an amateur theatrical society. We gave two private concerts for charities, you know, and acted the antigone for the benefit of an influencer hospital. Oh, there is a plenty to pass once time in New York. I can assure you. And when other amusements fail, you can go outside the walls. With a guard of trappers, and try your hand at converting the natives. What type of Indians is it that you have near you? The Tamanis, a very trying driver, I assure you. It is impossible to make any impression on them or teach them anything. Fancy, did you ever have any adventures yourself with these Indians? Asked Imogen, deeply excited, or does your rations rise in your life in modern New York? Oh dear, yes, frequently. To tell me some of yours, this is so very interesting. Lana never has said a word about the Tlemis, did you call them? Tamanis, perhaps not. Colorado is so far off, you know. There's pirates there, a different tribe entirely, and much less deleterious to civilization. How sad, but about the adventures? Oh yes, well, I'll tell you of one. In fact, it is the only really exciting experience I ever had with the New York Indians. It was two years ago. I had just come out, and it was my birthday, and Papa said, and I tried his new Mustang, by the way of his celebration. So we started, my father and I, for a long country gallop. We were just on the other side of Central Park, barely out of the city you see, when a sudden blood-curling gale filled the air. We were horrors struck, for we knew at once what it must be, the war cry of the savages. We turned the course and galloped for our lives, but the Indians were between us and the gates. We could read this war paint, and the Tomahawks and their girls, and we felt that all hope was over. I caught hold of Papa's lasso, which was looped around the saddle, and cocked by a revolving rifle. All the New York girls were revolving rifles struck around their waists. Continued Miss Optike, cruelly interrogating Imogen with her eyes as she spoke for signs of disbelief, but finding none. And I resolved to sell my life and scribe as dearly as possible. Just then, when all seemed lost, we heard a shout which sounded like music to our ears. A company of mounted rangers were galloping out from the city. They had seen our peril from one of the watchtowers, and had hurried to our rescue. How fortunate, said Imogen, drawing a long press. Well, go on, do go on. There's little more to tell, said Miss Optike, controlling with difficulty her inclination to laugh. The head ranger attacked too many chiefs, whose name was David Behal, a queer name, isn't it, and slew him after a bloody conflict. He gave me his brush. I mean his scalp lock. Afterward, and now at the dawns. Here her amusement became ungovernable, and she went into fits of laughter, which Imogen's astonished look only served to increase. Oh, she cried between her paroxysms. You believed it all. It is too absurd, but you really believed it. I thought till just now that you were only pretending to amuse me. Wasn't it true then, that Imogen had had the wits waking slowly up to the conclusion? True, why, my dear child, New York is the third city in the world in size. Not quite so large as London, but approaching it. It is a great, brilliant gay place, where everything under the sun can be bored and seen and done. Did you really think we had Indians and buffaloes close buyers? And haven't you? Dear me know, there never was a buffalo within a thousand miles of us, and not an Indian has come with you shooting distance for half a century, unless you came by train in a show. You mustn't be so easily taken in. People will impose on you no end or in America, unless you are on your guard. What has your brother been about, not to explain things better? Well, he has tried, said Imogen candidly, but they didn't half-believe what he said, because it was so different from the things in the books, and then he is so in love with America that it seemed as if he must be exaggerating. He did say that the cities were just like our cities, only more so, and that though it wasn't like England at all, it was very interesting to live in, but they didn't half-listen to him. It sounded so impossible. Live and learn. You'll have a great many surprises when you get across, but some of them will be pleasant ones, and I think you'll like it. Goodbye, as Imogen rose to go, I hope we shall meet again sometime, and then you will tell me how you like Colorado, and the pirates and the warfare. I hope to live yet to see you stirring an egg in a glass with a pepper and a messy butter in true western fashion. It's awfully good. I've always been told to forgive me for hoaxing you. I never thought you could believe me, and when I found that you did, it was irresistible to go on. I can't make out at all about Americans, said Imogen plaintively, as after an effusive farewell from Mrs. Page in the languid bow from Madame de Conflore, they were at last suffered to escape into the street. There seem to be so many different kinds. Mrs. Page and her daughter are not a bit like each other, and Ms. Optike is quite different from either of them, and none of these ressembles mixture for a Templestowe in the least. And neither does Bartholomew Bill or your phrenological lecturer, carriage moggy. I told you America was a sizable place. You'll begin to take in and understand the meaning of the variety show after you once get over there. It was queer, but do you know, I couldn't help rather liking that girl confessed Imogen later to Isabel Templestowe. She was odd, of course, and not a bit English, but you couldn't say she was bad form, and she was remarkably quick and bright. It seemed as if she had all sorts of things and tried her hand at almost everything and wasn't a bit afraid to say what she thought or to praise and find for it. I told you what she said about English bread, and she was just as rude about our vegetables. She said they were only flavored with salt water. What do you suppose she meant? I believe they cooked them quite differently in America. Choff likes the way. We found a great deal of fault when he was at home with the cauliflower and the Brussels sprouts. He declared that they had no taste, and that mint in green peas killed the flavor. Clover was too polite to say anything, but I could see that she thought the same. Mama was quite put about with Choff's new notions. I must say it seems rather impertinent and force putting for a new nation like that to be setting up opinions of its own and finding fault with the good old English customs, said Imogen patulently. Well, I don't know, replied Isabel. We have made some changes ourselves. John de Gaunt and Harry Hotspur might find fault with us for the same reason, giving up the good old customs of rushes on the floor for instance, and flags of ill for breakfast. There were the stocks in the pillory too, and hanging for theft and the torch of prisoners. Those were all in the use more or less when the pilgrims went to America, and I am sure we are all glad that they were given up. The world must move, I suppose it's but natural that the new nations should give it its impulse. England is good enough for me, replied the practical Imogen. I don't want to be instructed by new countries. It's like a child in a pine of wood trying to teach its kind mother how to do things. Now the Isabel, let me hear about your mother's parcels. Mrs. Templestore had wisely put their gifts into small compass. There were two dainty little frogs for her kind son, and a jacket of her own knitting, two pairs of debacle stockings for chaff and for clover, a bit of old silver which had belonged to a temple stall in the time of the Tudors. A double-handled parencher with a coat of arms engraved on its somewhat dented sides. Clover like most Americans had a passion for antique, so this present was sure to please. And you are rarely off tomorrow, said Isabel at the gate, how I wish I were going too. And how I wish I were not going at all, but staying on with you, responded Imogen. My mother says if my analysis isn't married by the end of three years, she will send Beatrice out to take my place. She will be turned 20 then, and would like to come. Isabel, you will be married before I get back, I know you will. It's most improbable. Girls don't marry in England half so easily as in America. It will be you who will marry and settle down there permanently. Never, kind Imogen. Then the two friends exchanged the last kiss and parted. My love to Clover, Isabel called back. Always Clover, thought Imogen, but she smiled and answered, yes. End of chapter 2, recording by Ellie, September 2009 Chapter 3 of In the High Valley This is a LibreVox recording, where LibreVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibreVox.org, recording by Ellie in the High Valley by Susan Coolidge. Chapter 3 7 and the first of America Mr. Morro came departing from home. Farewell is never an easy word to say, and these are to separate those who laugh at each other, but the young family uttered it briefly and resolutely. Lionel, who was impatient to get to work and to his beloved High Valley, was more than ready to go. His face among the sober ones looked aggressively cheerful. Cheer up, mother, he said consolingly, you will be coming over in a year or two, and Margie and I will give you such a good time as you have never had in your lives. We'll all go up to the Estes Park and camp out for a month. I can see you coming down the trail on a burrow, how fun it will be. Who knows, said Mrs. Young with her smile that was half a sigh. She and her husband had sent a good many sons and daughters out into the world to seek their fortunes, and so far not one of them had come back. To be sure, they were all doing well in their several ways. They had an excellent appointment and the second boy in the army. Two were in the Navy, and Tom and Charles in Van Diamondsland, where they were making a very good sing out of a sheep ranch. There was no reason why Lionel should not be equally lucky with his cattle in Colorado. They were younger children to be considered. It was all in the day's work the natural sing. Large families must separate. Parents could not expect to keep their grown boys and girls with them always, so they dismissed the two now going first cheerfully and complainingly, and with their blessing, but all the same it was not pleasant. And Mrs. Young shed some quiet tears in the privacy of her own room, and her husband looked very serious as he strolled down the South Hampton docks after seeing goodbye to his children on board the steamer. Immogen had never been on a great seagulling vessel before, and its truck has been very crowded and confused, as well as bewilderingly big. She stood clutching her bags and feeling homesick, and the stray while perverse in greetings went on about her, and the people who were going, and those who were to stay behind, seemed mixed in an inextricable tangle on the decks. Then a bell rang and gradually the group separated. Those who were not going formed themselves into a black mass on the pier. There was a great flattering of handkerchiefs, a plunge of disco, and the steamer was off. Lionel, who had been seeing to the baggage, now appeared from, advising her to get out all her warm things and make ready for a rough night. There is quite the sea outside, he remarked. We are in for a rolling, if not for a pitching. Lion, cried Immogen indignantly. Do you mean to say that you suppose I am going to be sick? I, a Devonshire girl born in bread, who have lived by the sea all my life? Never. Time will show, was there a regular response get the rugs out anyway, and your brushes and combs and things, and miss, what did you call her to do the same? Miss, what did you call her? Was Immogen's roommate, a perfectly unknown girl, who had been to her imagination one of the chief backbears of the voyage. She was curled up on the sofa in a tumbled little heap, and they entered the stateroom, had evidently been crying and did not look at all formidable, being no older than Immogen, very small and shy, a soft, dark and appealing creature, half English, half Belgique by extraction, and going to join a lover who for three years happened in California making ready for her. He was to meet her in New York, with the clergymen in his pockets so to speak, and as soon as the marriage ceremony was performed, they were to set out for the range in St. Gabriel Valley, to raise grapes, dry raisins, and live happily all the days of their lives afterward, like the prince and princesses of a fairy tale. These confidences were not made immediately, or all at once, but gradually, as the two girls became much more suffering and did them to each other, for in spite of Immogen's damage higher bringing up, the English channel proved too much for her, and she had to endure two pretty bad days before, promoted from cruel to dried host, and from dried host to beef tea, she was able to be helped on deck, and seated well wrapped up in a reclining chair to inhale the cold salty wind, which was the best and only medicine for her particular kind of ailment. The chair next to hers was occupied by a pretty dark eyed and very ladylike woman, with whom Lionel had apparently made an acquaintance, for he said as he tucked Immogen's rugs about her. Here's my sister at last you see, which offhand introduction the lady acknowledged with a pleasant smile, saying she was glad to see Miss Young able to be up. Her manner was so unaffected and cordial that Immogen's stiffness melted under its influence, and before she knew it, they were talking quite like all the acquaintances. Immogen was struck by the sweet voice of the ranger, with its well-bred modulations and also by the good taste and perfection of all her little appointments, from the down pillow at the top of her chair to the fur-drimmed shoes on a pair of particularly pretty feet at the other end. She set her down in her own mind as a London dame of fashion, perhaps a countess, or a lady something other, who was going out to see America. Your brother tells me, this is your first voyage, said the lady. Yes, he has been out before, but none of us were with him. It's all perfectly strange to me, Mrs. Cy. Why do you Cy? Don't you expect to like it? Why no, not like it exactly. Of course, I'm glad to be with Lionel and refuse to him, but I didn't come away from a home for Blasher. Blasher must come to you then, said the lady with a smile, and rarely I don't see why it shouldn't. In the first place you are acting the part of a good sister, and you know the adage about duty performed making a soul. And then Colorado is a beautiful state, with the finest of mountain views, a wonderful climate, and such wild flowers is gone over airs. I have some friends living there, who are quite infatuated about it. They say there is no place to be delightful in the world. That is just the way with your brother. It is rarely absurd the way he talks about it. You would think it was better than England. It is sure to be very different, but all the same you will like it, I think. I hope so, doubtfully. Just then came an interruption in the shape of a tall girl of 15 or 16 with a sweet, childish face who came running down the deck accompanied by a maid and sees the strange lady's hand. Mama, she began, the first officer says that if you are willing he will take me across to the bows to see the rainbows on the foam. May I go? He says, and can go too. Yes, certainly, if Mr. Craves will take charge of you, go to this young lady, who is the sister of Mr. Young, who was so kind about playing chip-cool with you yesterday and tell her you are glad she is able to be on deck. Then you can go, Amy. Amy turned a pair of beautiful long-lashed gray eyes on Imogen. I am glad you are better, Miss Young. Mama and I were sorry you were so sick. She said with the frank politeness that was charming, it must be very disagreeable. Haven't you been sick then? Said Imogen holding fast the little hand that was in hers. No, I'm never sick now. I was, though, the first time we came over, and they behaved awfully. Do you recollect, Mama? Only too well, said the mother loving. You were like a caged bird, beating yourself against the bars in desperation. Amy lingered a moment, while a dimple played in her pink cheek as if she were moved by some amusing remembrance. Ah, yes, Mr. Craves, she said. I must go. I'll come back presently and tell you about the rainbows, Mama. I suppose most of these people on border Americans said Imogen after little pause. It's always easy to tell them, don't you think? Not always. Yes, I suppose a good many of them are or call themselves so. What do you mean by call themselves so? That girl is one, I'm sure, indicating a pretty stylish young person who was talking rather too loudly for good taste with the ship's doctor. Yes, I imagine she is. And those people over there pointing to a large red-bed man who lay back in a sea chair eating a novel by the side of a fat wife through red and other, while the boy rests up and down the deck quite unheated and amusing himself by pulling the rucks off the knees of the sicker passengers. They are Americans, I know. Did you ever see such creatures? The idea of letting their child make a nuisance of himself like that. No one but an American would allow it. I have always heard that children in the states do exactly as they please, and the grown people never interfere with them in the least. General rules are dangerous things, said her neighbor is an odd little smile. Now as it happens, I know all about those people. They call themselves Americans because they have lived in Buffalo for 10 years and are naturalized. But he was born in Scotland and she in Wales, and the child doesn't belong exactly to any country, for he happened to be born at sea. You see, you can't always tell. Do you mean then that they are English after all, cried emoji, disconcerted and surprised? Oh no! Everybody is an American who is taking the oaths of allegiance. Those Polish Jews or they are Americans and the Italian couple also and the big party of Germans who are sitting between the boats. The Germans have a large shop in New York and go out every year to buy goods until their relations are superior to the United States or to Breslau. They are all Americans, though you would scarcely suppose it to look at them. America is like a pudding, it plums from one part of the world and spiced from another in flour and sugar and flavoring from somewhere else but all known by the name of pudding. They are very very odd, somehow and never thought of it before in that light. Are they not real Americans then? Are they all foreigners who have been naturalized? Oh no, it is not as bad as that. There are many real Americans. I am one for example. You? There was such a world of unfaithful surprise and emochant's tone that it was impossible for a new friend not to laugh. I? Didn't you know it? What did you take me for? Why, English of course, like myself, you are exactly like an English person. I suppose you mean it for a compliment. Thank you, therefore. I like England very much, so I don't mind being taken for an English woman. Of course you don't. That emochant's daring to the height of an American's ambition I've always heard to be such English. There you are mistaken. I really so no doubt that all of us would be glad to copy what is best and nicest in English ways and manners. But a really good American likes his own country best of all and would rather seem to belong to it than any other. And I was thinking how different your daughter is from American girls, the emochant, continuing her own train of thought and how her manners were so pretty and did such credit to us and would surprise people over there. How very odd. I shall never get to understand the Americans. My daughter is well as from us. There was a lady from New York that bid for the other day. A Mrs. Page in the contest to Samsung other, her daughter, and a Miss Obdike from New York. She was very pretty and really quite nice, though rather queer, but all three were as alike each other as they could be. Do you know them in America? Not Miss Obdike, but I've met Mrs. Page once in Europe a good while since. It was before her daughter was married. Mrs. Washington. Do you mean the Mrs. Washington whose husband is in the Navy? Why, that's Mrs. Joffrey Templestowe's sister. Do you know Glover Templestowe then? Said the lady surprised in her turn. That is really curious. Was it in England that you met? Yes, and we are on the way to her neighborhood now. My brother has bought a share in Joff's business and we are going to live near them at High Valley. I do call this an extraordinary coincidence. Amy, come here and listen. This young lady is on her way to Colorado to live close to Aunt Glover. What do you think of that for a surprise? I don't wonder that you open your eyes wide. Isn't it just like a storybook that she should have come and sat down in the chair next to ours? It's so funny that I can't believe it. Did I take time to think that Amy perched herself on the arm of her mother's seat? Just think, you'll see Elsie and her baby and Aunt Glover's baby and Uncle Joff and Phil and all of them. This is the most beautiful place out there that you ever saw. There are whole rows of horses and you ride all the while and when you are not riding you can pick flowers and play with the babies. Oh, I wish I were going with you. It would be such fun. But aren't you coming? Said Emo-Chen, we are taken by the frankness of the little America made. Cokes mama to fetch you out this summer and come and make me a visit. We are going to have a little cabin Well, it's what you call a good spit in England, replied Mrs. Ash. 2000 miles or so, nearly 3 days journey. Amy would be charm to come, I am sure, but I am afraid the distance will stand in her way. One doesn't step out to Colorado every summer. But perhaps we may be there someday and we shall certainly hope to see you. This encounter with Mrs. Ash who was, in a way, part of the family with whom Emo-Chen expected to be most intimately associated in America made the remainder of the voyage very pleasant. They sat together for hours every day, talking and reading and gradually Emo-Chen waked up to the fact that American life and society was a much more complex and less easily understood affair than she had imagined. The weather was favorable when the first rough days were past. After they rounded the curve of the wide sea hemisphere and began to near the American coast, it became beautiful with high arching skies and very bright sunsets. The arching sunbeams of Southern England Emo-Chen could not get used to these novelties. Her surprise over the death of the day and the clear vivid blue of the heavens was a continual amusement and joy to Mrs. Ash, who took a patriotic pride in her own climate and, as it were, made herself responsible for it. Then came the eventful morning when, rousing to the first glow of dawn, they found this cruel motionless and the steamer lying off a green island with a big barrack building on it which waived the American flag. The hearse officer made his visit and, before long, they were steaming up the wide bay of New York between gray flowery shores and the colossal liberty whose outstretched arm seemed to point to the dim rich mass of roofs and towers inspired of the city which lay beyond. Then they neared the landing stage where a black mass of people stood waiting them and Amy gave a cry of delight as she saw a gold-banded cap among them and recognized her uncle Ned. The little Anglo-Belgian had been more or less ill all the way over and looked pale and thin, though still very pretty as she stood with the rest gazing at the crowd of faces. All of her eyes were turned toward the streamer. Emo-Chen, who had helped her to dress, remained protectively by his side. What shall you do if it doesn't happen to be there? She asked, smitten with a sudden fear. Something might detain him, you know. I am not sure, turning pale. Oh yes, I am. Railing. He have und in her bocken. I go there and wait. But he not fail. He will be there. Then her eyes suddenly lit up and she exclaimed with a little shriek of joy. Here, there. That he is standing by the big timbre. My car. My car. Here, here. There indeed he was. Foremost in the strong, a tall, brown, handsome fellow with a nice, strong face and such a look of love and expectation in his eyes, the prosaic Emo-Chen suddenly felt that it might be worthwhile, after all, to cross half the world to meet a look and a husband like that. A fact which had disbelief till now demuring also her private mind as to the propriety of such a thing. It was pretty to see the tender happiness in the girl's face and the answering expression of her lovers. It seemed to put poetry and pathos into an otherwise commonplace scene. The gang-blank was lowered. A crowd of people searched the shore to be met by a corresponding search from the unlookers. And in the midst of it, the tenant was taken left aboard and hastened while his sister stood waiting him. He was coming up to Newport with me at 5.30, where his first words Kate is all ready and means to sit up till the boat gets in at 2.30 keeping a little supper hot and hot for you. The debate is staged in its glory just now and there is going to be a great explosion on Thursday which Amy will enjoy. How lovely, cried Amy, clinging to her uncle's arm. I love explosions. Why didn't Tanta come too? I am in such a hurry to see her. Then Mr. Varsington asked to be introduced to Imogen and Lana and explained that acting on a request from Choffrey Temple, though, he had taken rooms for them at the hotel and secured the tickets and sleeping sections in the limited train for the next day. And I told them to save two seats for Rippwenwinkel tonight till you got there, he added. If you are not too tired I advise you to go. Jefferson is an experience that you ought not to miss and you may never have another chance. How awfully kind your brother is that he surprised Imogen to Mrs. Ash. All this trouble and he never saw either of us before. It's very good of him. Oh, that's nothing. That's the way American men do. They are perfect deers. There is no doubt that is to that. They don't consider anything a trouble which helps a long friend or a friend's friend. It's a matter of course over here. Well, I don't consider it a matter of course at all. I think it extraordinary and it was so nice and chuffed to send word to line. Then they parted. Meanwhile, the little roommate had been having a private conference with a young man. She now joined Imogen. Carl says, we shall be married directly in a church in half an hour, she told her. And oh, won't you and Mr. Young come to be with us? It is so sad not to have one friend when one is married. It was impossible to refuse this request. So it happened that the very first thing Imogen did in America was to attend the wedding. It took place in an old church, pretty far downtown. Always afterward carried in her mind the picture of it, dim and somber in colouring. With the afternoon sun pouring in through the rich rose window and throwing blue and red reflectors on the little group of five at the altar. While from outside came the dim of wheels and the unceasing thread of busy feet. The service was soon over. The signatures were made and the little bride went down to the chancel on her husband's arm with her face appropriately turned to the vest. And with such a look of secure and unfearing happiness upon it, it was good to see. It was an unusual and typical scene with which to begin life in a new country. And Imogen liked to think afterward that she had been there. Then followed a long drive up town over rough inlaid pavements through dirty streets veiled by dirtier streets and far up by those that were less dirty. Imogen had never seen anything so shabby as the poorest of the buildings that they passed. And certainly never anything quite so fine as the best of them. Scweller and Splendor chostled each other side by side. Everywhere there was the same endless throng of hurrying people and everywhere the same abundance of flowers for sale and pots and baskets and bunches making the whole air of the street sweet. Then they came to the hotel and were shown to their homes, high up, airy and nicely furnished, though Imogen was at first disposed to caval the absence of bad curtains. It looked so bare, she complained at home, such a thing would be considered very odd. Very odd indeed. She said bad without curtains. After you spent one hot night in America you will be glad enough to fence it, replied her brother. Stuff your old things. It's only in cold weather that one could endure them over here. The first few hours on shore after a voyage have a delightful less older own. It is so pleasant to base interests without having to hold on and guard against lurches and tips. Imogen went about her toilet well blissed. Their pleasure was presently increased when she found on her dressing table a beautiful bunch of summer roses, this Mrs. Choffery Temple Stores love and welcome on the card lying beside it. Soughtful clover had written to Ned Washington to see to this little attention and the pleasure it gave and even fathered and she had hoped. I declare said Imogen sitting down with the flowers before her. I never knew anybody so kind as they are. I don't feel half so homesick as I expected. I must write mama about these roses. Of course Mrs. Choff does it for her sake but all the same it is awfully nice of her and I shall try not to forget it. Then when after finishing her dressing she drew the blinds up and looked from the windows she gave a cry of sheer pleasure for their beneath was spread out a beautiful wide distance of park with feathered trees and birds of shrubs behind which the sun was making ready to set in a crimson sky. There was a balcony outside the windows and Imogen pulled a chair out on it to enjoy the view. Carriages were rolling in at the gates looking exactly like the equipage of one season London with fat coachmen glossy horses and jiggling silver tarnishes. Girls and young men were cantering along the bridal paths and shrongs of world-dressed people filled the walks. Beyond was a fairy lake a gondola shot to and fro a band was playing from still far away came a peel of chimes from a church tower and this is New York said Imogen then her thoughts reverted to Miss Optike and her tale of the many Indians and she flashed with sudden vexation but an idiot she must have considered me she reflected but her insular prejudice is revived in full force as the knock was heard and the colored boy entering with a tickle pitch and quiet. Did you ring for ice water lady? No said Imogen sharply I never drink iced water I ring for hot water but I got it more than an hour ago back pardon lady why on earth does he call me lady she murmured so tiresome and vulgar. Then Lionel came for her and they went down to dinner the wonderful reparsed with soups and fishes and vegetables quite unknown to her. A bewildering succession of meats and entries, strawberries such as she suppose did not grow outside of England, raspberries and currants such as England never knew and wonderful blackberries of great size and sweetness bursting with purple juice. There were icies too served in the shapes of apples, pierced and stalks of asparagus which turned her eyes not a little while the whole was a terror and astonishment to her thrifty English mind. Lionel don't keep on ordering things so she protested we are eating our heads off as it is I am sure my dear young friend you have come to the land of fat things replied dinner cost just the same once you sit down to it that you have a biscuit and a glass of water or all these things. I call it the sinful waste then she retorted but all the same since it is so I'll take her eyes. First endured and pitted and embraced quoted her brother that's right Moggy pitch in spooled the egyptians it doesn't hurt them and it will do you lots of good from the dinner table they went straight to the theater having decided to follow Lieutenant Washington's advice and see her when Winkle and then they straight away fell under the spell of a magician who has enchanted many thousands before them and for the space of two hours forgot themselves their hopes fears and expectations where they followed the fortunes of the idle laughable and practical rep up the mountain to his sleep of years and down again white-haired and tottering to find himself forgotten by his kin and the stranger in his own home. People about them were weeping on relays of pocket handkerchiefs handing them up number one as they became soaked and beginning on others. Imogen had bought one handkerchief but she cried with that till she had to borrow lionels and he though he professed to be very stoical could not quite command his voice as he tried to cafe and whisper on her emotions and begged her to try up and remember that it was only a play after all and the presently Jefferson would discard his white-haired Winkle's, go home to a good supper and make a trolley end to the evening. It was almost too exciting for a first night on shore and if Imogen had not been so tired and if her unquert in bed had not proved to be deliciously comfortable she would scarcely have slept as she did till half past seven the next morning so that they had to scramble through breakfast to lose their train. One started in the limited with a library and a lady's maid, a bath in the bed at her disposal and just beyond a dainty appointed in the table joined with fresh flowers. All at forty miles an hour she had lessened her view of the situation and be astonished. Bustling cities should bath them as seemed to should. Beautifully kept country seats, shabby suburbs for goats and pigs mounted guard over shanties and cabbage beds, great tracks of wild forest, factory towns black smoke, reverse winding between blue hell redges, prairie-like expenses so overgrown with wild flowers that they looked all pink or all blue everything by turns and nothing long it seemed a sequence of the unexpected as a succession of rapidly changing surprises for which it was impossible to repair beforehand. I shall never learn to understand it thought poor perplexed Imogen. End of chapter 3, recording by Ellie, September 2009 Chapter 4 of In the High Valley This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org, recording by Ellie In the High Valley by Susan Coolidge. Chapter 4 In the High Valley Meanwhile, as the limited border young English travellers on the western way a good deal of preparation was going on for the special look of the Rocky Mountains to at which the course was directed. It was one of those clear cut jewel-like mornings which simpaculia to Colorado, with dazzling gold sunshine a cloudless sky of deep sapphire blue and air which had touched the mountain's nose somewhere in its nightly blowing and still carried on its wings the cool pure test of the contact. Ours were generally early in the High Valley but today they were a little earlier than usual for everyone had a sense of much to learn. Clover Templestowe did not always get up to administer to her husband and brother-in-law the stirrup cup of coffee but this morning she was prompted to her post and after watching them ride up the valley and standing for a moment at the open door for a press of the scented wind she seated herself at her sewing machine. A steady veering hum presently filled the room, rising to the floor above and quickening the movements there. Asie, running rapidly downstairs half an hour later found her sister with quite a pile of little cheesecloth squares and oblongs folded on the table near her. Dear me, are those the youngest curtains you're doing? She asked. I fully meant to get down early and finish my half. That wretched little Filida elected to wake up and demand Torres from one o'clock till quarter past two, hence these tears I overslept myself without knowing it. Filida was the eldest little girl, two years and a half old now and Dr. Carr's namesake. How bad of her! said Glover smiling. I wish children could be born with the sense of the fitness of times and seasons. Jofi is pretty good as to sleeping, but he is dreadful about eating. Half the time he doesn't want anything at dinner and then at half past three or a quarter to eight or ten minutes after twelve or some such uncanonical hour he is so ragingly hungry that he can scarcely wait till I fetch him something. He is so tiresome about his past too. Fancy, a young semi-Britain objecting to tap. I've circumvented him today, however, for Jofi has promised to wash him, while you and I go up to set the new house in order. Baby is always good with Jof. So he is, remarked Elsie, as she moved about, giving little tidying touches here and there to books and furniture. I never knew a father and child was using each other so perfectly. Phil flirts with Clarence, and he is very proud of her notice, but they think they are much rather shy, and he always touches her as though she were a bit of actual China that he was afraid of breaking. The room in which the sisters were talking was a little resemblance to the bare-range parlor of old days. It had been enlarged by a semi-circular bay window toward the mountain view, which made it half as long again as it then was. And the ceiling had been raised two feet on the occasion of Clarence's marriage, when great improvements had been undertaken to fit the hut for the occupation of families. The solid redwood beams, which supported the floor above had been left bare, and likely old to bring out the pale rusted orange color of the wood. The spaces between the beams were rust-plastered. And on the decoration of this blaster, while in a soft state a good deal of time had been expanded by Jofre Templestowe, who had developed a turn for household art, and seemed to enjoy lying for hours on his back on the staging, clad in pajamas indenting the blaster with rosettes and half-sunken rounds, using a crooked ball in the butt of stamp alternately, the hole being subsequently finished by a coat of dial-gold paint. He and Glover had themselves hung the walls with its pale orange-brown paper. A herder with a turn for carpentry had laid a new floor of narrow redwood boards. Glover had stained the striped pattern along its edges. In that remote spot where trained and regular assistants could only be headed great trouble and expense, it was desirable that everyone should utilize whatever faculty or accomplishment he or she possessed and the result was certainly good. The big, home-like room with its well-chosen colors and look of taste and individuality left nothing to be desired in the way of comfort, and was far prettier and more original than if ordered cut and dried from some artists in effects. To whom it's doing would have been simply a job and not an enjoyment. Glover's wedding presents had furnished part of the rugs and edgings and bits of china which ornamented the room, but Areses, who had married into a present-giving connection as a sister Johnny called it, did even more. Each sister was supposed to own a private sitting-room, made out of the little sleeping chambers of what Clarence Page stigmatized as the baggily bachelor days, which was thrown together two in one on either side of the common room. Glover and Areses had taken paints and blushes and making this pretty from each other, but as a matter of fact the private parlors were not private at all, for the two families were such very good friends that they generally preferred to be together, and the rooms were chiefly of use when the house was full of guests, as in summer it sometimes was, and Johnny had a girl or two staying with her, a young man with a tendency to have corners, or when Dr. Carr wanted to escape from his young people and analyze flowers and leisure and read his newspaper in peace and quiet. The room in the middle was used by both families as a dining and sitting place. Behind it an other had been added which served as a sort of mixed library office dispensary and storage room, and over the floor extending to the very edge of the wide verandas which flanked the house on three sides were six large bedrooms. Of these each family owned three, they had an equal right as well to the spare rooms in the building, which had once been the kitchen. One of these, called Phil's room, was used as a matter of course for the use of that young gentleman who, while nominally studying law in an office at St. Helens, contrived to get out to the valley very frequently. The interests of the party were so identical that the matter of ownership seldom came up and signified little. The sisters divided the housekeeping between them amicably, one supplementing the other, the improvements were paid out of a common purse. Their guests, being equally near and near, belonged equally to all. This was an ideal arrangement, which one quick tongue or jealous or hasty temper would have brought to a speedy conclusion but which had now lasted to the satisfaction of all parties concerned for nearly four years. That Clarence and Elsie should fancy each other had been a secret to unconfessed dream of Clovers ever since her own engagement, when Clarence had endeared himself by his manly behavior and real unselfishness under drying circumstances. But these dreams are rarely justified and she was not at all prepared to have hers come true with such unexpected ease and rapidity. It happened on this wise. Six months after her marriage and she and Choff and Clarence working together had just got the hat into a state to receive visitors, Mr. Missy's Dayton who had never forgotten or lost the interest in the pretty fellow traveler of two years before, hearing from Mrs. Ash how desirous Clover was of a visit from her father and sisters wrote and asked the cast to go out when Car 47 is far as Denver and we picked up and brought back two months later when the Dayton's return from Alaska. The girls were wild to go. It seemed an opportunity to good to be lost so the invitation was accepted and as sometimes happens the kindness shown had an unlooked-for return. Mr. Dayton was seized with a sudden ill turn on the journey of a sort to which she was subject and Dr. Car was able not only to help him at the moment but to suggest a regimen in treatment which was of permanent benefit to him. Dr. and patient go very fond of each other and every year since when Car 47 started on its western course, urgent invitations came for any or all of them to take advantage of it and go out to see Clover, whereby the hospitable housekeeper gained many visits which otherwise she would never have had, Colorado journeys being expensive luxuries. But this is anticipating no visit the only greed ever compared to that first one. When they were so chumped to meet and everything was new and surprising and delightful. The girls were enchanted with the well and the climate, the wild fresh life, the riding the flowers. This Clover's little home made pretty and convenient by such simple means, while Dr. Car rivelled in splendid air which seemed to lift the burden of years from his shoulders. And presently began the excitement of watching Clarence Page's rapid and successful viewing of Airsea. No cars under his feet this time, you may be sure. He fell in love the very first evening, deeply and heartily and lost an opportunity of letting Airsea know his sentiments. There was no rival in his way at the high valley or elsewhere and the result seemed to follow as a matter of course. They were engaged when the party went back to Bernard and married the following spring. Mr. Dayton fitted up 47 with all manner of sentimental and delightful appointments and sending the bride and bridegroom out in it as a wedding present, he said, but introduced the car with a repository of wedding presents. For all the rugs and porters and silken curtains and brass plucks and pretty pottery the switch it was adorned. And flower stands and Japanese kakemonos were to distance pockets and herons and held to decorate Airsea's new home. All went as was planned in Clarence's life from that day to this had been, as Clover mischievously told him, one pin of thanksgiving to her for refusing him and opening the way to real happiness. Airsea suited him to perfection. Everything she said and did and suggested was exactly to his mind and as for looks, Clover was the end nicest could be of course and pretty. Well yes, people would undoubtedly consider her a pretty little woman but as for any comparison between the two sisters it was quite out of question. Airsea had to decidedly the advantage in every point including the most important point of all that she preferred him to a shop temple store and loved him as heartily as he loved her. Happiness and satisfied affection had a wonderfully softening influence on Clarence but it was equally trolling delightful to Clover to see how absolutely Airsea ruled, how the least indication of her least thing availed to mold Clarence to her will. Clarence had never yielded easily to anyone else in the whole course of his life. So the double life flew smoothly on in the high valley but not quite so happily as Dr. Carr, bereft of four out of his six children, was left to the companion ship of the Steady Dory and what he was pleased to call the highly precarious tenure of Miss Chuanna. Miss Chuanna was a good deal more attractive than her father desired her to be. He took gloomy views of the situation, was disposed to snap any young man who seemed to be casting clansies to her last remaining treasure and finally announced that in fate dealt her last and final blow and carried to the sea, he should give up the practice of medicine in Burnett and retire to the high valley to live as physician and ordinary to the community for the rest of his days. This prospect was so alluring to the married daughters that they turned at once into the various matchmakers and were disposed to marry Johnny off immediately. It didn't much matter to whom, as long as they could get possession of their father. Johnny resented his manoeuvres highly and obstinately refused to remove to impediment bearing that self-sacrifice was all very well, but she couldn't and wouldn't see that it was her duty to go off and be content with the dull anybody merely for the sake of giving Tapa up to the greedy Clover and Elsie who had everything in the world already and yet were not content. She liked to be the head of the Burnett house and rule with a rod of iron and make Dory's mind his peace and cruise. It was much better fun than marrying anyone and there she was determined to stay whatever they might say or do. So matter stood at the present time and though Clover and Elsie still cherished little private plans of their own, nothing so far seemed likely to come of them. Elsie had time to set the room in beautiful order and Clover had nearly finished her hemming before the sound of hoofs announced the return of the two husbands from the early ride. They came cantering down the side path with appetites sharpened by exercise and quite ready for the breakfast Chulu presently brought in from the new cooking cabin set a little one side out of sight in the shelter of the grove. Chulu was still a fixture in the valley. He and his methods were a puzzle and somewhat of a distress to the other loving Clover who distressed it not a little the ways and means of his mysteriously conducted kitchen. But servants were so hard to come by at the high valley and Chulu was so steady and faithful in his violence on the whole so good that she judged advice to ask questions and not look too closely into affairs but just take the goods the gods provided and be thankful that she had any cook at all. Chulu was an amiable heathen also and very pleased to serve ladies who appreciated his attempted decoration find an eye for effect and love to make things pretty. Clover understood this and never forget to notice and praise which gratified Chulu who had found his bachelor employers in the old days somewhat darling and observant in this respect. Missy like, he asked this morning indicating a rise of wild cranberry wine around the dish of chicken. Then he set amount of white raspberries in the middle of the table, started with golden-hearted brown quariopsis and asked again. Missy like that pleased Clover's answering not in smile. Noiselessly he came and went in his white short feet fetching in one dish after another and then all was done making a sort of dual salam to the two ladies and remarking, only ready now after which he departed, his big tail swinging from side to side and his blue cotton garments flapping in the wind as he walked across to the cookhouse. The leisure's press of roses and minion had floated in as the party gathered about the breakfast table. They came from the flower beds just outside which Clover setuously tended, watered and defended from the roving kettle which showed a provoking preference for heliotrobes over pendestaments, whenever they had chance to get at them. It was also a great trial she considered and yet after all they were the object of their lives in the valley, their resort Etre, it must be put up with her accordingly. Do you suppose the youngs have landed yet? Asked Elsie as she qualified her husband's coffee as a dash of sick cream. They should have got in last night if the streamer made her usual time and they are saying we shall find a telegram at St. Helens tomorrow if we go in, answered her brother-in-law. Yes, or possibly Phil will ride out and fetch it. He is always glad of an excuse to come. I wonder what sort of girl Miss Young is. You and Clover never have said much about her. There isn't much to say. She is just an ordinary sort of girl, nice enough and all that, not pretty. Orchoff, that's not quite fair. She is rather pretty. That is, she would be if she were not stiff and shy and so very badly dressed. I didn't get on very much with her at Cloverly but they are saying we shall like her here and when she limbers out and becomes used to her ways, she will make a nice neighbor. Dear me, I hope so, remarked Erosy, it is really quite important what sort of girl Miss Young turns out to be. A stiff person whom you had to see every day would be heard and spoil everything. The only thing we need, the only possible improvement to the high valley would be a few more nice people. Just two or three, these pretty little houses you know, dotted here and there in the side canyons whom we could ride up to visit and who come down to see us and dine in playlist and dine with chinearills and celly waters on Christmas Eve. It would be quite perfect but I suppose it won't happen till nobody knows how long. I suppose so too, such off in a tone of fair stimulated sympathy. Poor Erosy, swirling for people don't set your heart on them. High valley isn't all a likely spot to make a neighborhood off. A neighborhood? I should think not. A neighborhood would be hard, but if two or three people wanted to come, really nice ones, you know, perfect charmers. Surely you and Claire wouldn't have the heart to refuse to sell them building lots. We are exactly this squatted now. The clearance patting his wife's shoulder, cheer up dear, you shall have your perfect charmers and they apply. But meantime, change is a risky and I'm quite content with things as they are and I'm ready to dance celly waters with you at any time with pleasure. Might they have the honor now, for instance? Indeed, no. Chloe and I have to work, like Beaver at the Young's house. In Claire, we are quite a complete party in ourselves as you say, but they are the children to be considered. Jofi and Phyllida will want to play with one of these days and where has their guard had to come from? We shall have to consider that point when they are a little nearer the list age. Here they come now, I hear the nursery door slam. They don't look particularly dejected about their future prospects, I must say. Four pairs of eyes turned expectantly toward the staircase, down which there presently came the highest little pair of children that can be imagined. Clover's boy of three was as big as most people's boys of five, a splendid sturdy little Englishman in belt, but with his mother's lovely eyes and skin. Phyllida, whose real name was Philippa, was of a more delicate and slender make, with brown eyes and the main of ruddy gold, which repeated something of the tiny tints of her father's hair down they came, hand in hand, little Phil holding tightly to the Polish Ballester, chattering as they went like two woods rushers. Neither of them had ever known any other child playmates, and they were devoted to each other and quite happy together. Little Choff from the first had adopted a protecting attitude toward his smaller cousin, and had borne himself like a gallant little knight in the one advantage of their lives, when a stray coyote wandered near the house, showing his teeth to two babies, whose nurse had left them alone for a moment, and Choff only two then had caught up a stick and thrown himself in front of Phyllida with such a rush and shout that the bees turned and fled, before Oxy and the Corlys could come to the rescue. The dogs chased the coyote up, the ray went down which had come, and he showed himself no more, but Glover was so proud of her boys' prowess that she would never forget to exploit, and it passed into the family annals for all time. One wonderful stroke of good luck was falling the young mothers in the mountain solitude, and that was the possession of Oxy and her mother Euphane. They were sister and niece to good old Debbie, who for so many years had presided over Dr. Carr's kitchen, and when they had arrived one day and burned it fresh from the Isle of Man and announced that they had come out for good to better their fortunes, Debbie had it once devoted them to the service of Elsie and Glover. They proved the greatest possible loss to them, used as the virtuous the lonelier cabin at the top of a steep moor at which few people ever came. The Colorado wages seemed righteous, the liberal comfortable living luxury to them, and they rooted and established themselves just as Debbie had done, into a position of trust and affectionate helpfulness, which seemed likely to endure. Euphane was housemaid, Oxy nurse, and already seemed as though life could never have gone on without them, and Glover was to emulate Dr. Carr an objecting to follow us, and in resenting any admiring looks, Carr's behelders adroxxed rosy English cheeks and pretty blue eyes. Little Choff ran to his father's knee, as a matter of course, on arriving at the bottom of the stairs, while Phyllida climbed on her mother's, equally as a matter of course. Safely established there, she began at once to flirt with Clarence, making white, crooked-ish eyes at him, smiling, hiding her face to peep out and smile at him. He sees one of her dimpled hands and kissed it. She instantly pulled it away and hit her face again. Fair Phyllida flouts me, he said, doesn't baby like Papa a bit? I'm well, he's going to cry then. He burried his face in his napkin, and sobbed ostentatiously. Phyllida, not at all impressed, tucked briefly at the corner of the handkerchief, but when the subs continued and grew louder, she began to look troubled, and leaning forward suddenly, threw her arms around her father's neck, and laid her rosely flips on his forehead. He caught her up rapturously and tossed her high in the air, kissing her every time she came down. You angel, you little angel, you little deer, he cried, with a positive dew of flesh in his eyes. Elsie, what have we ever done to deserve such a darling? I really don't know what you have done, remarked Elsie coolly, but I have done a good deal. I was always meritorious in my way, and deserve the best that is going, even Phyllida. She is none too good for me. Come back, baby, to your exemplary parent. She rose to recapture the child, but Clarence threw a strong arm about her, still holding Phyllida on his shoulder, and this revamped waltzing merrily down the room, the little one from her perch extending the dance time with a series of small shots. Little Choff looked up soberly, with his mouth full of raspberries in the market. Aunty, I didn't ever know that people danced at breakfast. Not it I, said Elsie, trying in vain to get away from her pure-writing husband. No more does anyone outside this extraordinary valley of ours, Lovechoff, no partner. If you have finished your fendango, allow me to remind you that there are a hundred and forty head of cattle waiting to be branded in the upper valley. That manual is to meet us there at ten o'clock. And we have the breakfast things to wash, and the whole world to do at the young's, declared Elsie releasing herself as the final twirl. Now, Clarence, are the merry gold and summer savory please, to be brought down in half an hour, and tell old Josie that we want him to help in scrap. No young men, not another turn. These spots are unseemly on such a busy day as this. Does Thou not suspect my place? Does Thou not suspect my years? As the immortal W would say, I am twenty-five, nearly twenty-six, and I am not to be whisked about thus. Everybody went everywhere on horseback in the high valley, and the chincham riding skirts and print heads always hung on the antlers, ready to hand, beside water proofs and topcoats. Before long the sisters were on their way, the saddle pockets full of little stores, baskets strapped behind them, and the newly made curtains piled on their laps. The distance was about the mile to the house which Lionel Young and his sister were to inhabit. It stood in a charming situation on the slope of one of the side canyons, facing the high range and backed by a herositic gloss to his pines. In the world it was very much a cabin, as the regional had it been, six rooms, all on one floor, the six being a kitchen. It was newly completed, and saw dust and fresh shavings well littered freely about the place. Clover's first act was to light the fire and the white chimney for burning this up. It looks bear enough, she remarked, sweeping away in dust lastly, but it will be quite easy to make it pleasant if Imogen Young has any faculty at that sort of thing. I am sure it's a great deal of promising that the hut was before Clarence and Joff and I took hold of it. See, Airsy, this room is done. I think Miss Young will choose it for her bedroom, as it is rather the largest. So you might take up the dotted curtains here, while I sweep the other rooms. And that conviral's chintz is to cover her dress packs. What funny house is, observed Airsy a moment or two later between her hammer strokes. People who can get a carpenter or a polstera to help them at any minute really lose a great deal of pleasure. I always enjoyed baby houses when I was little, and this is the same thing grown up. I don't know, replied Clover abstractedly, as she threw the last dustbin full of chips into the fire. It is good fun, certainly, but out here, one has so much of it that sometimes it comes under the suspicion of being hard work. Now when Josie is the kitchen windows washed it will all be pretty decent. We can't undertake much beyond making the first day or two more comfortable. Miss Young will prefer to make her own plans and arrangements, and I don't fancy she's the sort of girl who will enjoy being too much helped. Somehow I don't get quite an agreeable idea of Miss Young from what you and Joffrey say of her, and do hope she isn't going to make herself disagreeable. Oh, I'm sure she won't do that. But there is a wide distance between her being disagreeable and being agreeable. I didn't mean to give you an unpleasant impression of her. In fact my recollections about her are rather distinct. We didn't see a great deal of her when we were leveling, or perhaps it was that Isabel and I were out so much and there was so much coming and going. But are not she and Isabel very intimate? I think so, but they are not a bit alike. Isabel is delightful. I wish it were she who was coming out. You would laugh her. Now my child, you must begin on the kitchen tins. It was an old day piece of work which they had undertaken, and they had the dinner late accordingly and provided themselves with a basket of sandwiches. By half past five all was fairly in order. The windows washed, the curtains up, kitchen utensils and china unpacked and arranged, and the somewhat scanty supply of furniture placed to the best advantage. There, Robinson Grusso would consider himself in clover, and even Miss Young can exist for a couple of days, I should think, said Erosy standing back to note the effect of the last curtain. Lana will have to go in to some turns and get a lot of things out before it will be really comfortable, though. There come the boys now to ride home with us. No, there's only one horse. Why it is fair? Phil indeed it was, but such a different Phil from the delicate boy whom Chloe had taken out to Colorado six years before. He was now a broad shouldered muscular, athletic young fellow full of life and energy and showing no trace of the illness which at that time seemed so menacing. He gave a shout when he caught sight of his sisters and pushing his poncho to a gallop waving a handful of envelopes high in air. This dispatch came last night for Choff. He explained this mounting and there are a lot of letters beside so I thought I'd better bring them out. I left the newspapers and the rest at the house and fetched your share on. Euphane told me where you two were so this is where the young youngs are going to live, is it? He stepped in at the door, took a critical survey of the interior where Chloe and Elsie examined the letters. This telegram is for Choff, explained Chloe. The youngs are here and she read, safely landed. We reached then for Thursday morning, 6.30. Learn all young. So they will be here on Thursday afternoon. It's lucky we came up today. My letters are from Johnny and Sassy's leg, Johnny says. She was interrupted by a joyful shriek from Chloe who had turned open her letter and was eagerly reading it. Elsie, Elsie, what do you think is going to happen? The most enchanting thing. Roslind is coming out here in August. She and Mr. Brown and Roslind, first they ever anything so nice in this world. Just hear what she says. Boston, June 30. Medaqui Delos and Medea Elsie girl. I have something so wonderful to tell you that I can scarcely find words in which to tell it. A kind of providence and the AT and SFRR have just decided that Deniston must go to New Mexico early in August. This would have been the only lightful under ordinary circumstances. For it would only have meant the perspiration on his part and with a hood on mine. But most fortunately some gangsters with a private car of their own have turned up and have asked all three of us to go out with them as far as Santa Fe. What do you think of that? It is not the datans. For them only to exist to carry you two and four from Burnett to Colorado and the other patch of angels who have to do is the road, name of Hopkinson. I never said eyes on them but they appear to my imagination equipped with the largest kind of things and neem buses around the heads as big as shade heads. I have always longed to get out somehow to your enchanted valley and see all your mysterious husbands and babies and find out for myself what the charm is that makes you so wonderfully contented there, so far from West Zeta Street and the other centers of life and culture. But they never supposed I could come unless they walked. But now I am coming. I do hope none of you have the small box or pluripnumonia or the food and mouse disease, whatever that is or any other of the earth to which men cattle are subject and which will stand in the way of the visit. Dennis and of course will be forced to ride through to Santa Fe. But Roslin and I are at your service if you like to help us. We don't care for scenery. We don't want to see Mexico or the Pacific coast or the buried cities of Central America or the Sunic Rondens. If there is such a thing or the alkaline plains or poeblos or buts or buffalo vellos, we only want to see you individually and collectively and the high valley. May we come and stay a fortnight? Dennis thinks he shall be gone at least as long as that. We expect to leave Boston on the 31st of July. You will know what time we ought to get to Santa Fe. I don't and I don't care so only we get there and find you at the station. Oh, my dear Chloe, isn't it fun? I have seen several of our old set lately. Is the deer born for one? She is Mrs. Joseph P. Allen now. As you know, this come to live a chest at her quite close by. I had never seen her since her marriage nearly five years since, till the other day, when she asked me out to lunch and introduced me to Mr. Joseph P. who seems a very nice man and also, now don't faint clearly, but you were to the seven children. He had two of his own when they married and they have had two pairs of twins since and they singled them as they say in vests. Such a household we never did see, but the twins are lovely and Esther looks fat and happy and well to do and says she doesn't mind it a bit and sees more clearly every day that the thing she was born for was to take the charge of a large family. Her Joseph P. is very well of two. I should judge the day could have cranberry sauce every day and never feel the difference which is what an old cousin of my mother's whom I didn't remember as a part of my childhood, just to regard as representing the high watermark of hers. Mary's Trosses has been in town lately too. She has only one child, a little girl which seems miserably few compared with Esther. But on the other hand, she has never been without the realty and the face for one moment since she went to live in the Rosary Tunnel she told me. So they are compensations. She seems happy for all that, poor dear Mary. Erin Gray never has married at all you know. She goes into good works instead, girl is friendless and all sorts of usefulness. I do admire her so much she is a standing reproach and example to me. Wish I were a better boy as your brother Dory said in his journal. Mother is well and my father but the house seems empty and lonely now. We never can get used to the acrymoma's loss and Sylvia has gone too. She and Tom sailed for Europe in April and it makes a great difference having them away even for a summer. My brother-in-law is such a nice fellow. I hope we will know him someday. And all this time I've forgotten to tell you the chief news of all which is that I've seen Katie. Deniston and I spent Sunday before last with her at the torpedo station. She has a cozy funny little house one of a row of five or six built on the spine so to speak of a narrow steep island with a beautiful view of Newport just across the water. It was a superb day, all shimmery blue and gold and we spent most of our time sitting in a shady corner of the pier talking of the old times and of all of you. I didn't know then of this enchanting western plan or we should have had a great deal more to talk about. The dear Katie looks very valent-handsome and was perfectly dear as she always is. And she says the new part of the climate suits her to perfection. Your brother-in-law is a stunner I asked Katie if she wasn't going out to see you soon and she said not till night when to see next spring then she should go for a long visit. Right at once if they may come, they won't begin to the subject of Rosalind whom you will never know she is grown so. She goes about saying rapturously, I shall see little Choff, I shall see Felita, I shall see Aunt Chloe perhaps I shall ride on a horse you will never have the heart to disappoint her. My milk teeth are chattering with fright at the idea of so much rail-hold as one of her books says but for all that we are coming if you let us, do let us your own horse ride. Let them, I should think so ride clover with a little skip of rapture dear, dear Rose I'll see the nicest sort of things to happen out here, don't they? End of chapter 4 Recording by Ellie, September 2009