Clover

  CHAPTER X.

  NO. 13 PIUTE STREET.

  Clover did not see Clarence again for several days after thisconversation, the remembrance of which was uncomfortable to her. Shefeared he was feeling hurt or "huffy," and would show it in his manner;and she disliked very much the idea that Phil might suspect the reason,or, worse still, Mr. Templestowe.

  But when he finally appeared he seemed much the same as usual. After all,she reflected, it has only been a boyish impulse; he has already got overit, or not meant all he said.

  In this she did Clarence an injustice. He had been very much in earnestwhen he spoke; and it showed the good stuff which was in him and his realregard for Clover that he should be making so manly a struggle with hisdisappointment and pain. His life had been a lonely one in Colorado; hecould not afford to quarrel with his favorite cousin, and with him, aswith other lovers, there may have been, besides, some lurking hope thatshe might yet change her mind. But perhaps Clover in a measure was rightin her conviction that Clarence was still too young and undeveloped tohave things go very deep with him. He seemed to her in many ways as boyishand as undisciplined as Phil.

  With early September the summering of the Ute Park came to a close. Thecold begins early at that elevation, and light frosts and red leaveswarned the dwellers in tents and cabins to flee.

  Clover made her preparations for departure with real reluctance. She hadgrown very fond of the place; but Phil was perfectly himself again, andthere seemed no reason for their staying longer.

  So back to St. Helen's they went and to Mrs. Marsh, who, in reply toClover's letter, had written that she must make room for them somehow,though for the life of her she couldn't say how. It proved to be in twosmall back rooms. An irruption of Eastern invalids had filled the house tooverflowing, and new faces met them at every turn. Two or three of thelast summer's inmates had died during their stay,--one of them the verysick man whose room Mrs. Watson had coveted. His death took place "as ifon purpose," she told Clover, the very week after her removal to theShoshone.

  Mrs. Watson herself was preparing for return to the East. "I've seen theWest now," she said,--"all I want to see; and I'm quite ready to go backto my own part of the country. Ellen writes that she thinks I'd betterstart for home so as to get settled before the cold--And it's so cold herethat I can't realize that they're still in the middle of peaches at home.Ellen always spices a great--They're better than preserves; and as for thecanned ones, why, peaches and water is what I call them. Well--my dear--"(Distance lends enchantment, and Clover had become "My dear" again.) "I'mglad I could come out and help you along; and now that you know so manypeople here, you won't need me so much as you did at first. I shall tellMrs. Perkins to write to Mrs. Hall to tell your father how well yourbrother is looking, and I know he'll be--And here's a little handkerchieffor a keepsake."

  It was a pretty handkerchief, of pale yellow silk with embroideredcorners, and Clover kissed the old lady as she thanked her, and theyparted good friends. But their intercourse had led her to make certainfirm resolutions.

  "I will try to keep my mind clear and my talk clear; to learn what I wantand what I have a right to want and what I mean to say, so as not topuzzle and worry people when I grow old, by being vague and helpless andfussy," she reflected. "I suppose if I don't form the habit now, I sha'n'tbe able to then, and it would be dreadful to end by being like poor Mrs.Watson."

  Altogether, Mrs. Marsh's house had lost its homelike character; and it wasnot strange that under the circumstances Phil should flag a little. He wasnot ill, but he was out of sorts and dismal, and disposed to consider thepresence of so many strangers as a personal wrong. Clover felt that it wasnot a good atmosphere for him, and anxiously revolved in her mind what wasbest to do. The Shoshone was much too expensive; good boarding-houses inSt. Helen's were few and far between, and all of them shared in a stillgreater degree the disadvantages which had made themselves felt at Mrs.Marsh's.

  The solution to her puzzle came--as solutions often do--unexpectedly. Shewas walking down Piute Street on her way to call on Alice Blanchard, whenher attention was attracted to a small, shut-up house, on which was asign: "No. 13. To Let, Furnished." The sign was not printed, but writtenon a half-sheet of foolscap, which was what led Clover to notice it.

  She studied the house a while, then opened the gate, and went in. Two orthree steps led to a little piazza. She seated herself on the top step,and tried to peep in at the closed blinds of the nearest window.

  While she was doing so, a woman with a shawl over her head came hastilydown a narrow side street or alley, and approached her.

  "Oh, did you want the key?" she said.

  "The key?" replied Clover, surprised; "of this house, do you mean?"

  "Yes. Mis Starkey left it with me when she went away, because, she said,it was handy, and I could give it to anybody who wished to look at theplace. You're the first that has come; so when I see you setting here, Ijust ran over. Did Mr. Beloit send you?"

  "No; nobody sent me. Is it Mr. Beloit who has the letting of the house?"

  "Yes; but I can let folks in. I told Mis Starkey I'd air and dust a littlenow and then, if it wasn't took. Poor soul! she was anxious enough aboutit; and it all had to be done on a sudden, and she in such a heap oftrouble that she didn't know which way to turn. It was just lock-up andgo!"

  "Tell me about her," said Clover, making room on the step for the woman tosit down.

  "Well, she come out last year with her man, who had lung trouble, and hewasn't no better at first, and then he seemed to pick up for a while; andthey took this house and fixed themselves to stay for a year, at least.They made it real nice, too, and slicked up considerable. Mis Starkeysaid, said she, 'I don't want to spend no more money on it than I canhelp, but Mr. Starkey must be made comfortable,' says she, them was hervery words. He used to set out on this stoop all day long in the summer,and she alongside him, except when she had to be indoors doing the work.She didn't keep no regular help. I did the washing for her, and come innow and then for a day to clean; so she managed very well.

  "Then,--Wednesday before last, it was,--he had a bleeding, and sank awaylike all in a minute, and was gone before the doctor could be had. MisStarkey was all stunned like with the shock of it; and before she had gother mind cleared up so's to order about anything, come a telegraph to sayher son was down with diphtheria, and his wife with a young baby, and bothwas very low. And between one and the other she was pretty near out of herwits. We packed her up as quick as we could, and he was sent off byexpress; and she says to me, 'Mis Kenny, you see how 't is. I've got thishouse on my hands till May. There's no time to see to anything, and I'vegot no heart to care; but if any one'll take it for the winter, well andgood; and I'll leave the sheets and table-cloths and everything in it,because it may make a difference, and I don't mind about them nohow. Andif no one does take it, I'll just have to bear the loss,' says she. Poorsoul! she was in a world of trouble, surely."

  "Do you know what rent she asks for the house?" said Clover, in whose minda vague plan was beginning to take shape.

  "Twenty-five a month was what she paid; and she said she'd throw thefurniture in for the rest of the time, just to get rid of the rent."

  Clover reflected. Twenty-five dollars a week was what they were paying atMrs. Marsh's. Could they take this house and live on the same sum, afterdeducting the rent, and perhaps get this good-natured-looking woman tocome in for a certain number of hours and help do the work? She almostfancied that they could if they kept no regular servant.

  "I think I _would_ like to see the house," she said at last, after asilent calculation and a scrutinizing look at Mrs. Kenny, who was a faded,wiry, but withal kindly-looking person, shrewd and clean,--a North ofIreland Protestant, as she afterward told Clover. In fact, her accent wasrather Scotch than Irish.

  They went in. The front door opened into a minute hall, from which anotherdoor led into a back hall with a staircase. There was a tiny sitting-room,an equally tiny dining-room, a s
mall kitchen, and above, two bedrooms anda sort of unplastered space, which would answer to put trunks in. That wasall, save a little woodshed. Everything was bare and scanty and ratherparticularly ugly. The sitting-room had a frightful paper of mingledmustard and molasses tint, and a matted floor; but there was a good-sizedopen fireplace for the burning of wood, in which two bricks did duty forandirons, three or four splint and cane bottomed chairs, a lounge, and atable, while the pipe of the large "Morning-glory" stove in thedining-room expanded into a sort of drum in the chamber above. Thissecured a warm sleeping place for Phil. Clover began to think that theycould make it do.

  Mrs. Kenny, who evidently considered the house as a wonder of luxury andconvenience, opened various cupboards, and pointed admiringly to the glassand china, the kitchen tins and utensils, and the cotton sheets andpillow-cases which they respectively held.

  "There's water laid on," she said; "you don't have to pump any. Here'sthe washtubs in the shed. That's a real nice tin boiler for theclothes,--I never see a nicer. Mis Starkey had that heater in thedining-room set the very week before she went away. 'Winter's coming on,'she says, 'and I must see about keeping my husband warm;' never thinking,poor thing, how 't was to be."

  "Does this chimney draw?" asked the practical Clover; "and does thekitchen stove bake well?"

  "First-rate. I've seen Mis Starkey take her biscuits out many a time,--asnice a brown as ever you'd want; and the chimney don't smoke a mite. Theykep' a wood fire here in May most all the time, so I know."

  Clover thought the matter over for a day or two, consulted with Dr. Hope,and finally decided to try the experiment. No. 13 was taken, and Mrs.Kenny engaged for two days' work each week, with such other occasionalassistance as Clover might require. She was a widow, it seemed, with oneson, who, being employed on the railroad, only came home for the nights.She was glad of a regular engagement, and proved an excellent stand-by anda great help to Clover, to whom she had taken a fancy from the start; andmany were the good turns which she did for love rather than hire for "mylittle Miss," as she called her.

  To Phil the plan seemed altogether delightful. This was natural, as allthe fun fell to his share and none of the trouble; a fact of which Mrs.Hope occasionally reminded him. Clover persisted, however, that it was allfair, and that she got lots of fun out of it too, and didn't mind thetrouble. The house was so absurdly small that it seemed to strike everyone as a good joke; and Clover's friends set themselves to help in thepreparations, as if the establishment in Piute Street were a kind ofbaby-house about which they could amuse themselves at will.

  It is a temptation always to make a house pretty, but Clover felt herselfon honor to spend no more than was necessary. Papa had trusted her, andshe was resolved to justify his trust. So she bravely withstood herdesire for several things which would have been great improvements so faras looks went, and confined her purchases to articles of clearnecessity,--extra blankets, a bedside carpet for Phil's room, and achafing-dish over which she could prepare little impromptu dishes, and sosave fuel and fatigue. She allowed herself some cheap Madras curtains forthe parlor, and a few yards of deep-red flannel to cover sundry shelvesand corner brackets which Geoffrey Templestowe, who had a turn forcarpentry, put up for her. Various loans and gifts, too, appeared fromfriendly attics and store-rooms to help out. Mrs. Hope hunted up some oldiron firedogs and a pair of bellows, Poppy contributed a pair ofbrass-knobbed tongs, and Mrs. Marsh lent her a lamp. No. 13 began to lookattractive.

  They were nearly ready, but not yet moved in, when one day as Clover stoodin the queer little parlor, contemplating the effect of Geoff's lasteffort,--an extra pine shelf above the narrow mantel-shelf,--a pair ofarms stole round her waist, and a cheek which had a sweet familiarityabout it was pressed against hers. She turned, and gave a great shriek ofamazement and joy, for it was her sister Katy's arms that held her.Beyond, in the doorway, were Mrs. Ashe and Amy, with Phil between them.

  "Is it you; is it really you?" cried Clover, laughing and sobbing all atonce in her happy excitement. "How did it happen? I never knew that youwere coming."

  "Neither did we; it all happened suddenly," explained Katy. "The ship wasordered to New York on three days' notice, and as soon as Ned sailed,Polly and I made haste to follow. There would have been just time to get aletter here if we had written at once, but I had the fancy to give you asurprise."

  "Oh, it is _such_ a nice surprise! But when did you come, and where areyou?"

  "At the Shoshone House,--at least our bags are there; but we only stayed aminute, we were in such a hurry to get to you. We went to Mrs. Marsh'sand found Phil, who brought us here. Have you really taken this funnylittle house, as Phil tells us?"

  "We really have. Oh, what a comfort it will be to tell you all about it,and have you say if I have done right! Dear, dear Katy, I feel as if homehad just arrived by train. And Polly, too! You all look so well, and as ifCalifornia had agreed with you. Amy has grown so that I should scarcelyhave known her."

  Four delightful days followed. Katy flung herself into all Clover's planswith the full warmth of sisterly interest; and though the Hopes and otherkind friends made many hospitable overtures, and would gladly have turnedher short visit into a continuous _fete_, she persisted in keeping themain part of her time free. She must see a little of St. Helen's, shedeclared, so as to be able to tell her father about it, and she must helpClover to get to housekeeping,--these were the important things, andnothing else must interfere with them.

  Most effectual assistance did she render in the way of unpacking andarranging. More than that, one day, when Clover, rather to her owndisgust, had been made to go with Polly and Amy to Denver while Katystayed behind, lo! on her return, a transformation had taken place, andthe ugly paper in the parlor of No. 13 was found replaced with one ofwarm, sunny gold-brown.

  "Oh, why did you?" cried Clover. "It's only for a few months, and theother would have answered perfectly well. Why did you, Katy?"

  "I suppose it _was_ foolish," Katy admitted; "but somehow I couldn't bearto have you sitting opposite that deplorable mustard-colored thing allwinter long. And really and truly it hardly cost anything. It was aremnant reduced to ten cents a roll,--the whole thing was less than fourdollars. You can call it your Christmas present from me, if you like, andI shall 'play' besides that the other paper had arsenic in it; I'm sure itlooked as if it had, and corrosive sublimate, too."

  Clover laughed outright. It was so funny to hear Katy's fertility ofexcuse.

  "You dear, ridiculous darling!" she said, giving her sister a good hug;"it was just like you, and though I scold I am perfectly delighted. I didhate that paper with all my heart, and this is lovely. It makes the roomlook like a different thing."

  Other benefactions followed. Polly, it appeared, had bought more Indiancuriosities in Denver than she knew what to do with, and begged permissionto leave a big bear-skin and two wolf-skins with Clover for the winter,and a splendid striped Navajo blanket as a portiere to keep off draughtsfrom the entry. Katy had set herself up in California blankets while theywere in San Francisco, and she now insisted on leaving a pair behind, andloaning Clover besides one of two beautiful Japanese silk pictures whichNed had given her, and which made a fine spot of color on the pretty newwall. There were presents in her trunks for all at home, and Ned had sentClover a beautiful lacquered box.

  Somehow Clover seemed like a new and doubly-interesting Clover to Katy.She was struck by the self-reliance which had grown upon her, by herbright ways and the capacity and judgment which all her arrangementsexhibited; and she listened with delight to Mrs. Hope's praises of hersister.

  "She really is a wonderful little creature; so wise and judgmatical, andyet so pretty and full of fun. People are quite cracked about her outhere. I don't think you'll ever get her back at the East again, Mrs.Worthington. There seems a strong determination on the part of severalpersons to keep her here."

  "What do you mean?"

  But Mrs. Hope, who believed in the old proverb about not addli
ng eggs bymeddling with them prematurely, refused to say another word. Clover, whenquestioned, "could not imagine what Mrs. Hope meant;" and Katy had to goaway with her curiosity unsatisfied. Clarence came in once while she wasthere, but she did not see Mr. Templestowe.

  Katy's last gift to Clover was a pretty tea-pot of Japanese ware. "I meantit for Cecy," she explained. "But as you have none I'll give it to youinstead, and take her the fan I meant for you. It seems more appropriate."

  Phil and Clover moved into No. 13 the day before the Eastern party left,so as to be able to celebrate the occasion by having them all to animpromptu house-warming. There was not much to eat, and things were stilla little unsettled; but Clover scrambled some eggs on her little blazerfor them, the newly-lit fire burned cheerfully, and a good deal of quietfun went on about it. Amy was so charmed with the minute establishmentthat she declared she meant to have one exactly like it for Mabel whenevershe got married.

  "And a spirit-lamp, too, just like Clover's, and a cunning, teeny-weenykitchen and a stove to boil things on. Mamma, when shall I be old enoughto have a house all of my own?"

  "Not till you are tired of playing with dolls, I am afraid."

  "Well, that will be never. If I thought I ever could be tired of Mabel, Ishould be so ashamed of myself that I should not know what to do. Yououghtn't to say such things, Mamma; she might hear you, too, and have herfeelings hurt. And please don't call her _that_," said Amy, who had asstrong an objection to the word "doll" as mice are said to have to theword "cat."

  Next morning the dear home people proceeded on their way, and Clover fellto work resolutely on her housekeeping, glad to keep busy, for she had alittle fear of being homesick for Katy. Every small odd and end that shehad brought with her from Burnet came into play now. The photographs werepinned on the wall, the few books and ornaments took their places on theextemporized shelves and on the table, which, thanks to Mrs. Hope, was nolonger bare, but hidden by a big square of red canton flannel. There wasalmost always a little bunch of flowers from the Wade greenhouses, whichwere supposed to come from Mrs. Wade; and altogether the effect was cosey,and the little interior looked absolutely pretty, though the result wasattained by such very simple means.

  Phil thought it heavenly to be by themselves and out of the reach ofstrangers. Everything tasted delicious; all the arrangements pleased him;never was boy so easily suited as he for those first few weeks at No. 13.

  "You're awfully good to me, Clover," he said one night rather suddenly,from the depths of his rocking-chair.

  The remark was so little in Phil's line that it quite made her jump.

  "Why, Phil, what made you say that?" she asked.

  "Oh, I don't know. I was thinking about it. We used to call Katy thenicest, but you're just as good as she is. [This Clover justly considereda tremendous compliment.] You always make a fellow feel like home, asGeoff Templestowe says."

  "Did Geoff say that?" with a warm sense of gladness at her heart. "Hownice of him! What made him say it?"

  "Oh, I don't know; it was up in the canyon one day when we got totalking," replied Phil. "There are no flies on you, he considers. I askedhim once if he didn't think Miss Chase pretty, and he said not half sopretty as you were."

  "Really! You seem to have been very confidential. And what is that aboutflies? Phil, Phil, you really mustn't use such slang."

  "I suppose it is slang; but it's an awfully nice expression anyway."

  "But what _does_ it mean?"

  "Oh, you must see just by the sound of it what it means,--that there's nononsense sticking out all over you like some of the girls. It's a greatcompliment!"

  "Is it? Well, I'm glad to know. But Mr. Templestowe never used such aphrase, I'm sure."

  "No, he didn't," admitted Phil; "but that's what he meant."

  So the winter drew on,--the strange, beautiful Colorado winter,--withweeks of golden sunshine broken by occasional storms of wind and sand, orby skurries of snow which made the plains white for a few hours and thenvanished, leaving them dry and firm as before. The nights were oftencold,--so cold that comfortables and blankets seemed all too few, andClover roused with a shiver to think that presently it would be her dutyto get up and start the fires so that Phil might find a warm house when hecame downstairs. Then, before she knew it, fires would seem oppressive;first one window and then another would be thrown up, and Phil would besitting on the piazza in the balmy sunshine as comfortable as on a Junemorning at home. It was a wonderful climate; and as Clover wrote herfather, the winter was better even than the summer, and was certainlydoing Phil more good. He was able to spend hours every day in the openair, walking, or riding Dr. Hope's horse, and improved steadily. Cloverfelt very happy about him.

  This early rising and fire-making were the hardest things she had toencounter, though all the housekeeping proved more onerous than, in herinexperience, she had expected it to be. After the first week or two,however, she managed very well, and gradually learned the littlelabor-saving ways which can only be learned by actual experiment. Gettingbreakfast and tea she enjoyed, for they could be chiefly managed by theuse of the chafing-dish. Dinners were more difficult, till she hit on thehappy idea of having Mrs. Kenny roast a big piece of beef or mutton, or apair of fowls every Monday. These _pieces de resistance_ in theirdifferent stages of hot, cold, and warmed over, carried them well alongthrough the week, and, supplemented with an occasional chop or steak,served very well. Fairly good soups could be bought in tins, which neededonly to be seasoned and heated for use on table. Oysters were easilyprocurable there, as everywhere in the West; good brown-bread and rollscame from the bakery; and Clover developed a hitherto dormant talent forcookery and the making of Graham gems, corn-dodgers, hoe-cakes baked on abarrel head before the parlor fire, and wonderful little flaky biscuitsraised all in a minute with Royal Baking Powder.

  She also became expert in that other fine art of condensing work, andmaking it move in easy grooves. Her tea things she washed with herbreakfast things, just setting the cups and plates in the sink for thenight, pouring a dipper full of boiling water over them. There was nosilver to care for, no delicate glass or valuable china; the verysimplicity of apparatus made the house an easy one to keep. Clover waskept busy, for simplify as you will, providing for the daily needs of twopersons does take time; but she liked her cares and rarely felt tired. Theelastic and vigorous air seemed to build up her forces from moment tomoment, and each day's fatigues were more than repaired by each night'srest, which is the balance of true health in living.

  Little pleasures came from time to time. Christmas Day they spent withthe Hopes, who from first to last proved the kindest and most helpful offriends to them. The young men from the High Valley were there also, andthe day was brightly kept,--from the home letters by the early mail to thegrand merry-making and dance with which it wound up. Everybody had somelittle present for everybody else. Mrs. Wade sent Clover a tallindia-rubber plant in a china pot, which made a spire of green in thesouth window for the rest of the winter; and Clover had spent many oddmoments and stitches in the fabrication of a gorgeous Mexican-workedsideboard cloth for the Hopes.

  But of all Clover's offerings the one which pleased her most, as showing aclose observation of her needs, came from Geoff Templestowe. It was aprosaic gift, being a wagon-load of pinon wood for the fire; but thegnarled, oddly twisted sticks were heaped high with pine boughs and longtrails of red-fruited kinnikinnick to serve as a Christmas dressing, andsomehow the gift gave Clover a peculiar pleasure.

  "How dear of him!" she thought, lifting one of the big pinon logs with agentle touch; "and how like him to think of it! I wonder what makes him sodifferent from other people. He never says fine flourishing things likeThurber Wade, or abrupt, rather rude things like Clarence, orinconsiderate things like Phil, or satirical, funny things like thedoctor; but he's always doing something kind. He's a little bit like papa,I think; and yet I don't know. I wish Katy could have seen him."

  Life at St. Helen's in the winter season
is never dull; but the gayestfortnight of all was when, late in January, the High Valley partnersdeserted their duties and came in for a visit to the Hopes. All sorts ofsmall festivities had been saved for this special fortnight, and among therest, Clover and Phil gave a party.

  "If you can squeeze into the dining-room, and if you can do with justcream-toast for tea," she explained, "it would be such fun to have youcome. I can't give you anything to eat to speak of, because I haven't anycook, you know; but you can all eat a great deal of dinner, and then youwon't starve."

  Thurber Wade, the Hopes, Clarence, Geoff, Marian, and Alice made a partyof nine, and it was hard work indeed to squeeze so many into the tinydining-room of No. 13. The very difficulties, however, made it all thejollier. Clover's cream-toast,--which she prepared before their eyes onthe blazer,--her little tarts made of crackers split, buttered, andtoasted brown with a spoonful of raspberry jam in each, and the big loafof hot ginger-bread to be eaten with thick cream from the High Valley,were pronounced each in its way to be absolute perfection. Clarence andPhil kindly volunteered to "shunt the dishes" into the kitchen after therepast was concluded; and they gathered round the fire to play "twentyquestions" and "stage-coach," and all manner of what Clover called"lead-pencil games,"--"crambo" and "criticism" and "anagrams" and"consequences." There was immense laughter over some of these, as, forinstance, when Dr. Hope was reported as having met Mrs. Watson in theNorth Cheyenne Canyon, and he said that knowledge is power; and she, thatwhen larks flew round ready roasted poor folks could stick a fork in; andthe consequence was that they eloped together to a Cannibal Island whereeach suffered a process of disillusionation, and the world said it was thenatural result of osculation. This last sentence was Phil's, and I fear hehad peeped a little, or his context would not have been so apropos; butaltogether the "cream-toast swarry," as he called it, was a pronouncedsuccess.

  It was not long after this that a mysterious little cloud of differenceseemed to fall on Thurber Wade. He ceased to call at No. 13, or to bringflowers from his mother; and by-and-by it was learned that he had startedfor a visit to the East. No one knew what had caused these phenomena,though some people may have suspected. Later it was announced that he wasin Chicago and very attentive to a pretty Miss Somebody whose father hadmade a great deal of money in Standard oil. Poppy arched her brows andmade great amused eyes at Clover, trying to entangle her into admissionsas to this or that, and Clarence experimented in the same direction; butClover was innocently impervious to these efforts, and no one ever knewwhat had happened between her and Thurber,--if, indeed, anything hadhappened.

  So May came to St. Helen's in due course, of time. The sand-storms and thesnow-storms were things of the past, the tawny yellow of the plains beganto flush with green, and every day the sun grew more warm and beautiful.Phil seemed perfectly well and sound now; their occupancy of No. 13 wasdrawing to a close; and Clover, as she reflected that Colorado would soonbe a thing of the past, and must be left behind, was sensible of a littlesinking of the heart even though she and Phil were going home.