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Updated: May 7, 2025
The crimson-breasted robins were singing in the budding branches of the trees, and all Nature reminded one the glorious spring had come. Rex Lyon stood upon the porch of Whitestone Hall gazing up at the white, fleecy clouds that scudded over the blue sky, lost in deep thought. He was the same handsome, debonair Rex, but ah, how changed!
He evidently disdained to hide the crimson glories of his sash in the customary modest way, by folding it under his belt, but had made of it a broad bandage for his abdominal regions, which gae him the appearance of some gigantic crimson-breasted blue-bird.
The next morning broke bright and clear; the sunshine drifted through the green foliage of the trees, and crimson-breasted robins sung their sweetest songs in the swaying boughs of the blossoming magnolias; pansies and buttercups gemmed the distant hill-slope, and nature's fountain a merry, babbling brook danced joyously through the clover banks.
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