ed
remark.

"Nonsense."

"Not nonsense at all."

At that moment a carriage dashed rapidly by, the driver guiding the horses
as well as he could between the points of an umbrella, which constantly
menaced his eyes. Other travellers in the pass had evidently been
surprised by the storm besides themselves. The lady who held the umbrella
looked out, and caught the picture of the group under the cliff. It was a
suggestive one. Clover's hat was a little pushed forward by the rock
against which she leaned, which in its turn pushed forward the waving
rings of hair which shaded her forehead, but did not hide her laughing
eyes, or the dimples in her pink cheeks. The fair, slender girl, the dark,
stalwart young fellow so close to her, the rain, the half-sheltered
horses,--it was easy enough to construct a little romance.

The lady evidently did so. It was what photographers call an
"instantaneous effect," caught in three seconds, as the carriage whirled
past; but in that fraction of a minute the lady had nodded and flashed a
brilliant, sympathetic smile in their direction, and Clover had nodded in
return, and laughed back.

"A good many people seem to have been caught as we have," she said, as
another streaming vehicle dashed by.

"I wish it would rain for a week," observed Clarence.

"My gracious, what a wish! What would become of us if it did?"

"We should stay here just where we are, and I should have you all to
myself for once, and nobody could come in to interfere with me."

"Thank you extremely! How hungry we should be! How can you be so absurd,
Clarence?"

"I'm not absurd at all. I'm perfectly in earnest."

"Do you mean that you really want to stay a week under this rock with
nothing to eat?"

"Well, no; not exactly that perhaps,--though if you could, I would. But I
mean that I would like to get you for a whole solid week to myself. There
is such a gang of people about always, and they all want you. Clover," he
went on, for, puzzled at his tone, she made no answer, "couldn't you like
me a little?"

"I like you a great deal. You come next to Phil and Dorry with me."

"Hang Phil and Dorry! Who wants to come next to them? I want you to like
me a great deal more than that. I want you to love me. Couldn't you,
Clover?"

"How strangely you talk! I do love you, of course. You're my cousin."

"I don't care to be loved 'of course.' I want to be loved for myself.
Clover, you know what I mean; you must know. I can