“Oh, I don’t know; it was up in the canyon one day when we got to talking,” replied Phil.  “There are no flies on you, he considers.  I asked him once if he didn’t think Miss Chase pretty, and he said not half so pretty as you were.”

“Really!  You seem to have been very confidential.  And what is that about flies?  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 no nonsense sticking out all over you like some of the girls.  It’s a great compliment!”

“Is it?  Well, I’m glad to know.  But Mr. Templestowe never used such a phrase, 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,—­with weeks of golden sunshine broken by occasional storms of wind and sand, or by skurries of snow which made the plains white for a few hours and then vanished, leaving them dry and firm as before.  The nights were often cold,—­so cold that comfortables and blankets seemed all too few, and Clover roused with a shiver to think that presently it would be her duty to get up and start the fires so that Phil might find a warm house when he came downstairs.  Then, before she knew it, fires would seem oppressive; first one window and then another would be thrown up, and Phil would be sitting on the piazza in the balmy sunshine as comfortable as on a June morning at home.  It was a wonderful climate; and as Clover wrote her father, the winter was better even than the summer, and was certainly doing Phil more good.  He was able to spend hours every day in the open air, walking, or riding Dr. Hope’s horse, and improved steadily.  Clover felt very happy about him.

This early rising and fire-making were the hardest things she had to encounter, though all the housekeeping proved more onerous than, in her inexperience, she had expected it to be.  After the first week or two, however, she managed very well, and gradually learned the little labor-saving ways which can only be learned by actual experiment.  Getting breakfast and tea she enjoyed, for they could be chiefly managed by the use of the chafing-dish.  Dinners were more difficult, till she hit on the happy idea of having Mrs. Kenny roast a big piece of beef or mutton, or a pair of fowls every Monday.  These pieces de resistance in their different stages of hot, cold, and warmed over, carried them well along through the week, and, supplemented with an occasional chop or steak, served very well.  Fairly good soups could be bought in tins, which needed only to be seasoned and heated for use on table.  Oysters were easily procurable there, as everywhere in the West; good brown-bread and rolls came from the bakery; and Clover developed a hitherto dormant talent for cookery and the making of Graham gems, corn-dodgers, hoe-cakes baked on a barrel head before the parlor fire, and wonderful little flaky biscuits raised all in a minute with Royal Baking Powder.