This gilded youth had several times sent roses to Clover,--a fact which Phil had noticed, and upon which he was fond of commenting.
"Speaking of young men," went on Clover, "what do you suppose has become of Clarence Page?
He said he should come in to see us soon; but that was ever so long ago." "He's a fraud, I suspect," replied Phil, lazily, from his seat in the window.

He had a geometry on his knees, and was supposed to be going on with his education, but in reality he was looking at the mountains.

"I suppose people are pretty busy on ranches, though," he added.

"Perhaps they're sheep-shearing." "Oh, it isn't a sheep ranch.

Don't you remember his saying that the cattle got very wild, and they had to ride after them?
They wouldn't ride after sheep.