"Well?"
"I forget what her name is!"
"Athalie."
CHAPTER II
HER first memories were of blue skies, green trees, sunshine, and the odour of warm moist earth.
Always through life she retained this memory of her early consciousness—a tree in pink bloom; morning-glories covering a rotting board fence; deep, rich, sun-warmed soil into which her baby fingers burrowed.
A little later commenced her memory of her mother—a still, white-shawled figure sewing under a peach tree in pink bloom.
Vast were her mother's skirts, as Athalie remembered them—a wide white tent under which she could creep out of the sunlight and hide.