They began to suspect what it must mean, and Mrs.Hope confirmed the suspicion.

It was irrigation day in Mountain Avenue, it seemed.

Every street in the town had its appointed period when the invaluable water, brought from a long distance for the purpose, was "laid on" and kept at a certain depth for a prescribed number of hours.
"We owe our grass and shrubs and flower-beds entirely to this arrangement," Mrs.Hope told them.

"Nothing could live through our dry summers if we did not have the irrigating system." "Are the summers so dry ?" asked Clover.

"It seems to me that we have had a thunder-storm almost every day since we came." "We do have a good many thunderstorms," Mrs.Hope admitted; "but we can't depend on them for the gardens." "And did you ever hear such magnificent thunder ?" asked Dr.Hope.
"Colorado thunder beats the world." "Wait till you see our magnificent Colorado hail," put in Mrs.Hope, wickedly.