chattering merrily, and were evidently well acquainted: they were
the only ones left out.

Clover watched Rose Red, to whose face she had taken a fancy. It made
her think of a pink carnation, or of a twinkling wild rose, with saucy
whiskers of brown calyx. Whatever she said or did seemed full of a
flavor especially her own. Here eyes, which were blue, and not very
large, sparkled with fun and mischief. Her cheeks were round and
soft, like a baby's; when she laughed, two dimples broke their pink,
and, and made you want to laugh too. A cunning white throat supported
this pretty head, as a stem supports a flower; and, altogether, she
was like a flower, except that flowers don't talk, and she talked all
the time. What she said seemed droll, for the girls about here were
in fits of laughter; but Clover only caught a word now and then, the
stage made such a noise.

Suddenly Rose Red leaned forward, and touched Clover's hand.

"What's your name?" she said. "You've got eyes like my sister's. Are
you coming to the Nunnery?"

"Yes," replied Clover, smiling back. "My name is Clover,--Clover Carr."

"What a dear little name! It sounds just as you look!"

"So does your name,--Rose Red," said Clover, shyly.

"It's a ridiculous name," protested Rose Red, trying to pout. Just
then the stage stopped.