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.
"What a raving belle you are!" remarked Marian Chase, as the young men rode away. "Three is a good many at a time, though, isn't it?"
"Three what?"
"Three—hem! leaves—to one Clover!"
"It's the usual allowance, I believe. If there were four, now—"