There was a splendid cluster of Jacqueminot buds in Clover’s dress, at which Clarence glared wrathfully as he caught these words.  The only consolation was that the creature in duck was going.  He was making his last bows; and one of the girls went with him, which still farther reduced the number of what in his heart Clarence stigmatized as “a crowd.”

“I must go too,” said the girl in blue.  “Good-by, Clover.  I shall run in a minute to-morrow to talk over the last arrangements for Thursday.”

“What’s going to happen on Thursday?” growled Clarence as soon as she had departed.

“Oh, such a delightful thing,” cried Clover, sparkling and dimpling.  “Old Mr. Wade, the father of young Mr. Wade, whom you saw just now, is a director on the railroad, you know; and they have given him the director’s car to take a party over the Marshall Pass, and he has asked Phil and me to go.  It is such a surprise.  Ever since we came to St. Helen’s, people have been telling us what a beautiful journey it is; but I never supposed we should have the chance to take it.  Mrs. Hope is going too, and the doctor, and Miss Chase and Miss Perham,—­all the people we know best, in fact.  Isn’t it nice?”

“Oh, certainly; very nice,” replied Clarence, in a tone of deep offence.  He was most unreasonably in the sulks.  Clover glanced at him with surprise, and then at Geoff, who was talking to Marian.  He looked a little serious, and not so bright as in the valley; but he was making himself very pleasant, notwithstanding.  Surely he had the same causes for annoyance as Clarence; but his breeding forbade him to show whatever inward vexation he may have felt,—­certainly not to allow it to influence his manners.  Clover drew a mental contrast between the two which was not to Clarence’s advantage.

“Who’s that fellow anyway?” demanded Clarence.  “How long have you known him?  What business has he to be bringing you roses, and making up parties to take you off on private cars?”

Something in Clover’s usually soft eyes made him stop suddenly.

“I beg your pardon,” he said in an altered tone.

“I really think you should,” replied Clover, with pretty dignity.

Then she moved away, and began to talk to Geoff, whose grave courtesy at once warmed into cheer and sun.

Clarence, thus left a prey to remorse, was wretched.  He tried to catch Clover’s eye, but she wouldn’t look at him.  He leaned against the balustrade moody and miserable.  Phil, who had watched these various interludes with interest, indicated his condition to Clover with another telegraphic wink.  She glanced across, relented, and made Clarence a little signal to come and sit by her.

After that all went happily.  Clover was honestly delighted to see her two friends again.  And now that Clarence had recovered from his ill-temper, there was nothing to mar their enjoyment.  Geoff’s horse had cast a shoe on the way down, it seemed, and must be taken to the blacksmith’s, so they did not stay very long; but it was arranged that they should come back to dinner at Mrs. Marsh’s.