Clover by Susan Coolidge


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Page 35

"I never should have guessed who it was," remarked Clover, as they watched
the active figure canter down the street and turn for a last flourish of
the hat. "He was the roughest, scrubbiest boy when we last met. What a
fine-looking fellow he has grown to be, and how well he rides!"

"No wonder; a fellow who can have a horse whenever he has a mind to," said
Phil, enviously. "Life on a ranch must be great fun, I think."

"Yes; in one way, but pretty rough and lonely too, sometimes. It will be
nice to go out and see Clarence's, if we can get some lady to go with us,
won't it?"

"Well, just don't let it be Mrs. Watson, whoever else it is. She would
spoil it all if she went."

"Now, Philly, don't. We're supposed to be leaning on her for support."

"Oh, come now, lean on that old thing! Why she couldn't support a postage
stamp standing edgewise, as the man says in the play. Do you suppose I
don't know how you have to look out for her and do everything? She's not a
bit of use."

"Yes; but you and I have got to be polite to her, Philly. We mustn't
forget that."

"Oh, I'll be polite enough, if she will just leave us alone," retorted
Phil.

Promising!




CHAPTER VII.

MAKING ACQUAINTANCE.


Phil was better than his word. He was never uncivil to Mrs. Watson, and
his distant manners, which really signified distaste, were set down by
that lady to boyish shyness.

"They often are like that when they are young," she told Clover; "but they
get bravely over it after a while. He'll outgrow it, dear, and you mustn't
let it worry you a bit."

Meanwhile, Mrs. Watson's own flow of conversation was so ample that there
was never any danger of awkward silences when she was present, which was a
comfort. She had taken Clover into high favor now, and Clover deserved
it,--for though she protected herself against encroachments, and
resolutely kept the greater part of her time free for Phil, she was
always considerate, and sweet in manner to the older lady, and she found
spare half-hours every day in which to sit and go out with her, so that
she should not feel neglected. Mrs. Watson grew quite fond of her "young
friend," though she stood a little in awe of her too, and was disposed to
be jealous if any one showed more attention to Clover than to herself.

An early outburst of this feeling came on the third day after their
arrival, when Mrs. Hope asked Phil and Clover to dinner, and did _not_ ask
Mrs. Watson. She had discussed the point with her husband, but the doctor
"jumped on" the idea forcibly, and protested that if that old thing was to
come too, he would "have a consultation in Pueblo, and be off in the five
thirty train, sure as fate."

"It's not that I care," Mrs. Watson assured Clover plaintively. "I've had
so much done for me all my life that of course--But I _do_ like to be
properly treated. It isn't as if I were just anybody. I don't suppose Mrs.
Hope knows much about Boston society anyway, but still--And I should
think a girl from South Framingham (didn't you say she was from South
Framingham?) would at least know who the Abraham Peabodys are, and they're
Henry's--But I don't imagine she was much of anybody before she was
married; and out here it's all hail fellow and well met, they say, though
in that case I don't see--Well, well, it's no matter, only it seems queer
to me; and I think you'd better drop a hint about it when you're there,
and just explain that my daughter lives next door to the
Lieutenant-Governor when she is in the country, and opposite the
Assistant-Bishop in town, and has one of the Harvard Overseers for a near
neighbor, and is distantly related to the Reveres! You'd think even a
South Framingham girl must know about the lantern and the Old South, and
how much they've always been respected at home."

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Books | Photos | Paul Mutton | Sat 29th Nov 2025, 20:38