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Page 30
"It looks unnatural, somehow," she objected; "not a bit like the East. Red
never was a favorite color of mine. Ellen had a magenta bonnet once, and
it always worried--But Henry liked it, so of course--People can't see
things the same way. Now the green hat she had winter before last
was--Don't you think those mountains are dreadfully bright and distinct? I
don't like such high-colored rocks. Even the green looks red, somehow. I
like soft, hazy mountains like Blue Hill and Wachusett. Ellen spent a
summer up at Princeton once. It was when little Cynthia had
diphtheria--she's named after me, you know, and Henry he thought--But I
don't like the staring kind like these; and somehow those buildings, which
the conductor says are not buildings but rocks, make my flesh creep."
"They'd be scrumptious places to repel attacks of Indians from," observed
Phil; "two or three scouts with breech-loaders up on that scarlet wall
there could keep off a hundred Piutes."
"I don't feel that way a bit," Clover was saying to Mrs. Watson. "I like
the color, it's so rich; and I think the mountains are perfectly
beautiful. If St. Helen's is like this I am going to like it, I know."
St. Helen's, when they reached it, proved to be very much "like this,"
only more so, as Phil remarked. The little settlement was built on a low
plateau facing the mountains, and here the plain narrowed, and the
beautiful range, seen through the clear atmosphere, seemed only a mile or
two away, though in reality it was eight or ten. To the east the plain
widened again into great upland sweeps like the Kentish Downs, with here
and there a belt of black woodland, and here and there a line of low
bluffs. Viewed from a height, with the cloud-shadows sweeping across it,
it had the extent and splendor of the sea, and looked very much like it.
The town, seen from below, seemed a larger place than Clover had expected,
and again she felt the creeping, nervous feeling come over her. But before
the train had fairly stopped, a brisk, active little man jumped on board,
and walking into the car, began to look about him with keen, observant
eyes. After one sweeping glance, he came straight to where Clover was
collecting her bags and parcels, held out his hand, and said in a pleasant
voice, "I think this must be Miss Carr."
"I am Dr. Hope," he went on; "your father telegraphed when you were to
leave Chicago, and I have come down to two or three trains in the hope of
meeting you."
"Have you, indeed?" said Clover, with a rush of relief. "How very kind of
you! And so papa telegraphed! I never thought of that. Phil, here is Dr.
Hope, papa's friend; Dr. Hope, Mrs. Watson."
"This is really a very agreeable attention,--your coming to meet us,"
said Mrs. Watson; "a very agreeable attention indeed. Well, I shall write
Ellen--that's my daughter, Mrs. Phillips, you know--that before we had got
out of the cars, a gentleman--And though I've always been in the habit of
going about a good deal, it's always been in the East, of course, and
things are--What are we going to do first, Dr. Hope? Miss Carr has a great
deal of energy for a girl, but naturally--I suppose there's an hotel at
St. Helen's. Ellen is rather particular where I stay. 'At your age,
Mother, you must be made comfortable, whatever it costs,' she says; and so
I--An only daughter, you know--but you'll attend to all those things for
us now, Doctor."
"There's quite a good hotel," said Dr. Hope, his eyes twinkling a little;
"I'll show it to you as we drive up. You'll find it very comfortable if
you prefer to go there. But for these young people I've taken rooms at a
boarding-house, a quieter and less expensive place. I thought it was what
your father would prefer," he added in a lower tone to Clover.
"I am sure he would," she replied; but Mrs. Watson broke in,--
"Oh, I shall go wherever Miss Carr goes. She's under my care, you
know--Though at the same time I must say that in the long run I have
generally found that the most expensive places turn out the cheapest. As
Ellen often says, get the best and--What do they charge at this hotel that
you speak of, Dr. Hope?"
"The Shoshone House? About twenty-five dollars a week, I think, if you
make a permanent arrangement."
"That _is_ a good deal," remarked Mrs. Watson, meditatively, while Clover
hastened to say,--
"It is a great deal more than Phil and I can spend, Dr. Hope; I am glad
you have chosen the other place for us."
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