Clover privately wondered how Barnstable, Mass., could be classed as “down” the same way with Burnet, not having learned as yet that to the soaring Western mind that insignificant fraction of the whole country known as “the East,” means anywhere from Maine to Michigan, and that such trivial geographical differences as exist between the different sections seem scarcely worth consideration when compared with the vast spaces which lie beyond toward the setting sun.  But perhaps Dr. Hope was only trying to tease her, for he twinkled amusedly at her puzzled face as he went on,—­

“I think you can make yourselves comfortable here.  It was the best I could do.  But your old lady would be much better suited at the Shoshone, and I wish she’d go there.”

Clover could not help laughing.  “I wish that people wouldn’t persist in calling Mrs. Watson my old lady,” she thought.

Mrs. Marsh, a pleasant-looking person, came to meet them as they entered.  She showed Clover and Phil their rooms, which had been secured for them, and then carried Mrs. Watson off to look at another which she could have if she liked.

The rooms were on the third floor.  A big front one for Phil, with a sunny south window and two others looking towards the west and the mountains, and, opening from it, a smaller room for Clover.

“Your brother ought to live in fresh air both in doors and out,” said Dr. Hope; “and I thought this large room would answer as a sort of sitting place for both of you.”

“It’s ever so nice; and we are both more obliged to you than we can say,” replied Clover, holding out her hand as the doctor rose to go.  He gave a pleased little laugh as he shook it.

“That’s all right,” he said.  “I owe your father’s children any good turn in my power, for he was a good friend to me when I was a poor boy just beginning, and needed friends.  That’s my house with the red roof, Miss Clover.  You see how near it is; and please remember that besides the care of this boy here, I’m in charge of you too, and have the inside track of the rest of the friends you are going to make in Colorado.  I expect to be called on whenever you want anything, or feel lonesome, or are at a loss in any way.  My wife is coming to see you as soon as you have had your dinner and got settled a little.  She sent those to you,” indicating a vase on the table, filled with flowers.  They were of a sort which Clover had never seen before,—­deep cup-shaped blossoms of beautiful pale purple and white.

“Oh, what are they?” she called after the doctor.

“Anemones,” he answered, and was gone.

“What a dear, nice, kind man!” cried Clover.  “Isn’t it delightful to have a friend right off who knows papa, and does things for us because we are papa’s children?  You like him, don’t you, Phil; and don’t you like your room?”

“Yes; only it doesn’t seem fair that I should have the largest.”

“Oh, yes; it is perfectly fair.  I never shall want to be in mine except when I am dressing or asleep.  I shall sit here with you all the time; and isn’t it lovely that we have those enchanting mountains just before our eyes?  I never saw anything in my life that I liked so much as I do that one.”