ing sharply carried back to former
days, and made to feel that the intervening time was dreamy and unreal,
so absolutely unchanged was it. There was the rickety piazza on which
she and Phil had so often sat, the bare, unhomelike parlor, the
rocking-chairs swinging all at once, timed as it were to an
accompaniment of coughs; but the occupants were not the same. Many sets
of invalids had succeeded each other at Mrs. Marsh's since those old
days; still the general effect was precisely similar.

Mrs. Marsh, who only was unchanged, gave them a warm welcome. Grateful
little Clover never had forgotten the many kindnesses shown to her and
Phil, and requited them in every way that was in her power. More than
once when Mrs. Marsh was poorly or overtired, she had carried her off
to the High Valley for a rest; and she never failed to pay her a visit
whenever she spent a day at St. Helen's.

Their next call was at the Hopes'. They found Mrs. Hope darning
stockings on the back piazza which commanded a view of the mountain
range. She always claimed the entire credit of Clover's match, declaring
that if she had not matronized her out to the Valley and introduced her
and Geoff to each other, they would never have met. Her droll airs of
proprietorship over their happiness were infinitely amusing to Clover.

"I _think_ we should have got at each other somehow, even if you had not
been in existence," she told her friend; "marriages are made in Heaven,
as we all know. Nobody could have prevented ours."

"My dear, that is just where you are mistaken. Nothing is easier than to
prevent marriages. A mere straw will do it. Look at the countless old
maids all over the world; and probably nearly every one of them came
within half an inch of perfect happiness, and just missed it. No,
depend upon it, there is nothing like a wise, judicious, discriminating
friend at such junctures, to help matters along. You may thank me that
Geoff isn't at this moment wedded to some stiff-necked British maiden,
and you eating your head off in single-blessedness at Burnet."

"Rubbish!" said Clover. "Neither of us is capable of it;" but Mrs. Hope
stuck to her convictions.

She was delighted to see them, as she always was, and no less the bottle
of beautiful cream, the basket full of fresh lettuces, and the bunch of
Mariposa lilies which they had brought. Clover never went into St.
Helen's empty-handed.

Here they took luncheon No. 1,--consisting of sponge-cake