"But the curtain isn't down," said Barbara, after a hush.
No. The great scene was all open, still. Wide from north to south stretched the deep, sweet heaven, full of the tenderest tints and softliest creeping shadows; the tree-fringes stood up against it; the gentle winds swept through, as if creatures winged, invisible, went by; touched, one by one, with glory, the stars burned on the blue; we watched as if any new, unheard-of wonder might appear; we looked out into great depths that narrow daylight shut us in from. Daylight was the curtain.
"We've got the best balcony seats, haven't we, father?" Barbara said again, coming to where Mr. Holabird sat, and leaning against the railing.
"The front row, and season tickets!"
"Every one, all summer. Only think!" said Ruth.
"Pho! You'll get used to it," answered Stephen, as if he knew human nature, and had got used himself to most things.