Its little leaves
were hanging tremulously, not yet so fully blown as to hide its
development of bough and twig, making poetry against the spiritual
tints of a spring sunset.
"It does look sad," said Peter, "but it is a pretty tree, and it
wasn't its fault."
"There's a heavy dew and it's time we stopped talking nonsense and
went in," decreed Felicity. "If we don't we'll all have a cold,
and then we'll be miserable enough, but it won't be very
exciting."
"All the same, I wish something exciting would happen," finished
the Story Girl, as we walked up through the orchard, peopled with
its nun-like shadows.
"There's a new moon tonight, so may be you'll get your wish," said
Peter. "My Aunt Jane didn't believe there was anything in the
moon business, but you never can tell."
The Story Girl did get her wish. Something happened the very next
day. She joined us in the afternoon with a quite indescribable
expression on her face, compounded of triumph, anticipation, and
regret. Her eyes betrayed that she had been crying, but in them
shone a chastened exultation. Whatever the Story Girl mourned
over it was evident she was not without hope.
"I have some news to tell you," she said importantly. "Can you
guess what it is?"
We couldn't and wouldn't try.
Pages:
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158