Her
thoughts flew about more strenuously than the belated bees that were
searching high and low for non-existent pollen. This front of their
house would look lovely with its casements and deep eaves painted
white instead of gray; and if bright green shutters could at some time
or other be added to the windows, one might expect artists to stop and
make sketches of the most attractive homestead in Hampshire.
She kissed the tips of her fingers to that rearward portion of the
building where Mary guarded the cradle, and then went through the gate
and along the highroad.
It was a misty morning--almost a fog--the sun making at first but
feeble attempts to pierce through the white veil. There would come a
faint glow, a widening circle of yellow light; then almost immediately
the circle contracted, changed from gold to silver, and for a moment
one saw the sun itself looking like a bright new sixpence, and then it
was altogether gone again. Out of the mist on her right hand floated
the song of birds in a field. No rain having fallen during this month
of September, the ground was dry and hard as iron, but the roadway lay
deep in dust, and a continuous rolling cloud followed her firm
footsteps. The air was sweet and fresh, although not light to breathe
as it is in spring.
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