The afternoon sun began to glint through the trees.
The jolly little "what-d'-you-call-'ems" lifted pale anxious faces to the sky.
Clocks all around chimed the hour of four.
Suddenly her limbs weakened. She could walk no longer.
She sank into a chair, beneath the mulberry-tree.
In a few minutes Jenkins would bring out tea. Would Martha have arranged a tea such as the Boy loved, with cups for two, hot buttered-toast and explosive buns?
What a boy he was, at heart—this man who had won her; what a gay, laughter-loving boy!
She lay back, very still, under the mulberry-tree, and lived again through each of the Boy's days, from the first to the sixth.
She kept her eyes closed. The sunlight, glinting through the mulberry leaves, fell in bright patches on her white gown, and on her soft golden hair.
The garden was very still. All nature seemed waiting with the heart that waited.