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Updated: June 11, 2025
But the oddest thing to Kate was that wherever a particle could lodge, the whole stage was covered with a ghostly, grayish-white dust. While the loading went on, Sawdy arrived with the second passenger, Belle Shockley. She had, fortunately for Kate's apprehensions, not changed her mind. Belle herself was something of an added shock.
The roofs were hidden under a large white sheet and half lost in the grayish-white background of the sky. "Detestable weather! So much the better," thought Lissac, "I shall have no visitors." "I will see no one," he said to his servant. "In such weather no one but borrowers will come."
He was smaller than Melody the Wood Thrush, being about one-fourth smaller than Welcome Robin. He wore a brown coat but it was not as bright as that of his cousin, Melody. His breast was somewhat faintly spotted with brown, and below he was white. His sides were grayish-white and not spotted like the sides of Melody. "I heard you singing and I just had to come over to see you," cried Peter.
Five grayish-white eggs, each quite pointed at one end, lay in their nest. And nobody but themselves was a bit the wiser. To be sure, the neighbors remarked that Bobby Bobolink was simply bursting with song. He was more musical than ever. But they never dreamed what it was that could make him even happier than he had always been.
Back toward Dry Bottom, and on the north and south, rose great, black thunderheads with white crests, seeming like mountains with snowcapped peaks. Between the thunder-heads were other clouds, of grayish-white, fleecy, wind-whipped, weird shapes, riding on the wings of the Storm-Kings.
He knew the sedges along the bank with their nodding tassels and stiff lance-like leaves, the feathery grasses, the velvet moss upon the wet stones, the sea-green lichen on boulder or tree-trunk. There, in that corner of Echo Lake, grew the thickest patch of pipewort, with its small, round, grayish-white, mushroom-shaped tops on long, slender stems.
Silent and close they stood, and he could feel her shoulders trembling a little. An ambling breeze swept up the hill and stirred the brim of her floppidy hat. "Let's go down there!" She was pointing to a flat stretch on the other side of the hill where along the green turf were a thousand grayish-white crosses stretching in endless, ordered rows like the stacked arms of a battalion.
They all looked and saw, perhaps thirty rods away, a grayish-white jack-rabbit, distinct by contrast with the brown earth. The hounds had also caught sight of the game and pulled lustily at their collars. Instantly Florence was all excitement. "Of course we're ready! No, wait a second, until I see about my saddle." She dismounted precipitately. "Tighten the cinch a bit, won't you, Ben?
To the southeast-ward the horizon assumed a grayish-white tinge. Dan watched it anxiously, and the girl followed his gaze and then glanced at him inquiringly. "It's going to cloud over," he said. "There may be some deviltry before we make shore." He moistened his fingers, moving them to and fro in the air. "It isn't a storm," he said; "it is fog." "Fog!" The girl was trembling.
In a pine thicket in the heart of Liberty Forest, every year, in the month of August, there appeared a few grayish-white moths of the kind which are called nun moths. They were small and few in number, and scarcely any one noticed them.
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