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Updated: May 16, 2025
Shivering with the wet on his pallid skin, he thought this over. His landlady had used her discretion, and there was toast on the table. A beam of Spring's morning sunlight illuminated the toast-rack. He sat, and ate, and munched the doubt whether "not till" included the final day, or stopped short of it. By this the state of his brain may be conceived.
The park-dweller, though a stubborn fighter against autumnal coolness, is slow to attack the advance line of spring's chilly cohorts. Then arose one from a seat near the leaping fountain, and came and sat himself at Vallance's side.
Some trees most of the maples, for instance send out their flowers boldly ahead of the foliage, and it is thus easy to see what is happening above your head, as you stroll along drinking in the spring's nectar of spicy air. Others, again, have such showy blooms that the mass of foliage only accentuates their attractiveness, and it is not possible to miss them.
It came just as I was leaving the house and I waited until we were all together to read it. Suppose we go up on the hill a little farther and get in a patch of sunshine. It's a trifle chilly in the shade, even if Mr. Phœbe does keep insisting that 'Spring's come!" "Humph! Short and sweet," Kitty commented, as she drew forth the letter. "Suppose it is because she will be with us so soon."
There's something I'll speak about before I forget it: the mice have eat the backs of a pile o' old books that's stored away in the west chamber closet next to Miss Katharine's room, and I set a trap there, but it was older 'n the ten commandments, that trap was, and the spring's rusty. I guess you'd better get some new ones and set round in different places, 'less the mice'll pester you.
Only they said, 'You love her the girl yonder with glad, frightened eyes, Spring's daughter. Oh, I too, heard it, Marian! 'Follow, the birds sang, 'follow, follow, follow, for yonder is the heart's desire!" The Duke of Ormskirk raised his head, his lips sketching a whistle. "Ah! ah!" he muttered. "Eureka! I have recaptured it the message of April."
If he could only be sure that this was a worthy and willing antagonist! "How do you know he is so good?" he asked. "I ought to know. I am his wife." As she spoke she turned, and was gone like a flash among the bushes. The man was quite close now, and Tom Spring's scruples weakened as he looked at him.
I was on the very threshold of my boyhood's playfield within a short hour's walk of my boyhood's home. The air was full of sounds. Birds sang with merry discordance all through the thicket to our right, flitting among the pale green tangle of spring's foliage.
Now that he had grown somewhat accustomed to the ride and the speed, so that he could think of something besides holding himself on the gander's back, he began to notice how full the air was of birds flying northward. And there was a shouting and a calling from flock to flock. "So you came over to-day?" shrieked some. "Yes," answered the geese. "How do you think the spring's getting on?"
The air is weighted down with heavy, resinous odours, and an enervating warmth has descended to the depths of the lower forests. But Winter has not yet spread its wings for its last flight. Spring's approach has been heralded by its feathered trumpeters, garbed in their sober plumage. It is on its way, that is all. The transition of the seasons is at hand.
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