"Looks of familiar love, which never more,
Never on earth our aching eyes shall greet,
Sweet words of welcome to the household door,
And vanished smiles, and sounds of parted feet.
Spring, 'midst the wakening of thy flowers and bees
Why—why awakest thou these?"
It seemed so long to her since the last spring, as if she had left behind her childhood and its dreams and happiness and come into the cares of womanhood. But youth was strong within her for all that; and when her cousins, the trio of dear little sisters, came rushing out to meet her as Bean threw open the door, and Kate danced downstairs to give her a prolonged hug, Salome felt ready for anything her cousins might propose.
"The boys are going to be so condescending as to walk with us," Kate said. "We are all going to Stoke Canon to get daffodils. I thought you would like that, as you have an eye for beauty, as Aunt Betha says. Digby is to bring Reginald home to luncheon, and we are to start at two o'clock. But come upstairs now. I have got a new hat, and I want your advice about it."
"May we come and get daffodils, Katie?" pleaded Edith's little voice.
"Certainly not; run away, children."
"Let Edith come, Katie, Edith and Maude," Salome said.
"Oh no, they will only be a bother; besides, we are going too far for them."
"You must come to tea with Hans and Carl next Saturday," Salome said, "if Aunt Anna will allow you."
"Oh, that will be nice!" exclaimed the children. "Now, do come and see Guy and Aunt Betha."
Poor little Guy lay extended on his sofa, while Aunt Betha was busy with some new table-linen, which she was marking in the old-fashioned way with red marking thread.