The sun was low enough to make the
shadows long and refreshing, as they lay upon the blooming grass of
the wilderness, softly swaying in the breeze, all pale with its
numerous chaffy blossoms, and varied by the tall buttercups that
raised up their shining yellow heads, or by white clouds of bold-
faced ox-eye daisies.
The pear-trees were like white garlands; the apple-trees covered with
white blossoms and rosy buds; the climbing roses on the wall were
bursting into blossom; the sky was one blue vault without a cloud.
Surely Elizabeth had no lack here of what was pretty. Then why did
she lag behind, unseeing, unheeding of all, but peevishly pushing off
John and Anne, thinking that they always teased her worst on Sundays,
and very much discomfited that Miss Fosbrook was not attending to
her? Surely the fault was not altogether in what was outside her.
"See!" cry the boys. Miss Fosbrook must first look up there, high
upon the side of the house, niched behind that thick stem of the
vine. What, can't she see those round black eyes and little beak?
They see her plain enough.
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