The very squirrels upon the limbs—see there,
The young one with the pine cone in its mouth.
And the faint far-awayness of the wood.
Mrs. Egerton.
(Confidentially)
Sylvia——
Mrs. Orr.
Just now as the couple passed
Practising, I overheard the girl,
'It almost seems the real pines are here
Dropping their needles on us while we dance.
As Lillian says, you feel them in your hair.'
Now, to my way of thinking, it would be
Far easier to hear the pine trees sigh
Than feel the needles.
Mrs. Egerton.
It was not the pines.
Mrs. Orr.
You said a sighing.