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Larks looped the blackberry-vines with quick flights; mustard-tops showed their pale gold under the apple-blossoms. Here and there a white cloud drifted in the deep, clear blue of the sky. There had been rains a day or two before, and in the fragrant air still hung a little chill, a haunting suggestion of wet earth and refreshed blossoms.
But she looked so pretty in her blue cotton dress, with the yellow level of a field of mustard-tops behind her, and beyond that the windbreak of gold-tipped eucalyptus trees, that he went on almost confusedly, "You you look terribly pretty in that dress! Is that what you're going to wear?" "This!" laughed Mary Bell. And she raised her dancing eyes, to grow a little confused in her turn.
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