SPRING'S RETURN
"Now Ariel goes a-singing, by the olden
Dark yews, where flitter-mice were wont to cling.
All the world is turning golden, turning golden
In the spring."
(Nora Hopper—"April")
"Guess the latest news, Ted," said my brother, coming in from parochial visits.
I shook my head.
"I'm no hand at riddles."
"Well, there's a marriage to come off in our parish before long, if matters can be satisfactorily arranged."
"A marriage!" That roused me; it would be the first function of the kind I had seen in Ardmuirland. For our lads usually fetched partners from elsewhere, and maidens being accustomed to migrate to service in the south, found mates there—even as the swallows.
"I thought that would fetch you!" cried Val triumphant. "And now give a guess."
But I racked my brains to no purpose.
"It's not Widow Lamont, and it's not Robina——"