It was always ‘Not to-day’ whenever he asked to go into that orchard, and probably he would never have gone into it at all if the old maid had not occasion one day to go to St. Columb, a small market town three miles from where she lived.
She could not take the boy with her, she said, and so she left him at home to take care of the house.
Looking after a house was not in little William John’s line, and Great-Aunt Ann had not been gone more than an hour before he found himself at the small wicket-gate opening into the orchard, where to his joy he saw a great multitude of golden-headed daffadillies rising out of the lowly grass, and a light that was softer than silver moving mysteriously in and out amongst the trees.
The temptation to go into that sun-lighted, fascinating spot was irresistible, and finding the gate unlocked, little William John opened it and went in.
It was the spring of the year, and the spring was late, and there were as yet no carmine buds on the apple trees, but their upper branches were misty with the silvery green of budding leaves. And the pear trees were in virgin whiteness, and so were the plum and cherry trees, which made a shining background to all the yellow lilies in blossom there.
‘It makes me feel happy only to be here,’ whispered little William John to himself; ‘and oh! the daffies are making golden dawns under the trees!’
He wandered about to his heart’s content, staying his young feet now and then to listen to a blackbird’s liquid pipe, and to touch with reverent hand a daffadilly’s drooping head, or to watch with puzzled eyes that thing of brightness moving on in front of him amongst the trees and blossoms.
He lost sight of this wandering light when he had gone the length of the orchard; but he saw it again as he turned across to its top, and when he got close he saw, to his astonishment, it was a little Hare of silvery whiteness.
It was sitting on its haunches under the blasted tree, and did not move away as the boy drew near.
A thrill of gladness filled William John’s kind young heart at so fair and strange a vision, and his delight was even greater when the small White Hare suffered him to stroke its fur.