White Sunday, indeed! The orchard was a sunlit wilderness of pink and white blossoms. Every breath of the breeze shook off showers of them. The ground grew white beneath the trees. The garden was bordered with hedges of currant bushes; and within them stood a regiment of bare bean-poles in line. On the upper side was a bee-house, also a long row of grape trellises, covered with dry vines, showing here and there a large, pale green bud.
Presently Theodora came out.
"Alone, cousin?" she asked. "Where are the other boys?"
I told her that Addison had gone into the house.
"And Halstead?"
I replied that he was in the orchard a few minutes ago.
"He's gone now," said she, glancing through the trees. "Let's go find Addison."
No long search was necessary. She led the way directly up-stairs to his room and tapped at the door. There was a moment's skurry inside and a voice said, "Who's there?"
"Doad,"—with a smile to me.
The key turned and Addison looked out.