"What is it, Nell?" he said, surprised.
Nelly's voice trembled a little; but she answered bravely.
"Mrs. Napoleon, papa. That nice lady looked at her, and said she never could be mended; and if she were me, she'd throw her right away. She says I'll feel better as soon as she is out of my sight."
Mr. March looked over at the sick lady and bowed and smiled.
"She is quite right, Nell. You'll forget all about it much quicker. Good-by, Mrs. Napoleon," he said, and threw the white parcel with its pink ribbons as far as he could throw it.
"I don't want to forget about it, papa," replied Nelly, and pressed her face close against the window-pane, so as not to lose that last glimpse of the package.
Never were people gladder to reach any place than Mr. and Mrs. March and Nelly and Rob were to reach Denver. They were so tired that they went right to bed as soon as they entered the hotel. They did not want any supper. The next morning, however, they were up early, all rested and ready to look at every thing. The first thing they saw as they walked out of the hotel door, was a long range of high mountains to the south. They looked down the street on which the hotel stood, and saw these mountains rising up like a great wall across the end of the street. They were covered with snow two-thirds of the way down. The lower part which was not covered with snow was of a very dark blue color; and the upper part, where the snow lay, shone in the sun so dazzling bright that it made their eyes ache to look at it. The sky was as blue as blue could be, and had not a cloud in it; and some of the sharp peaks of the mountains looked as if they were really cutting through the sky. Mr. and Mrs. March and Nelly and Rob all stood still in the middle of the street looking at the beautiful sight. Several carriages and wagons came very near running over them, but they hardly observed it. No one of them spoke for some minutes: even Rob was overawed by the grandeur of the mountains. But his overawed silence did not last long. In a few minutes, he broke out with:—
"Bully mountains! ain't they? Come on!" Mr. and Mrs. March laughed.
"Well, Rob," said his father, "you've brought us to our senses: haven't you? But I do wish you wouldn't talk slang."
"No, Rob," said his mother. "How many times have I asked you not to say 'bully'?"