I am greedy over every wasted year.

I want you young, lovely, suitably dressed and enjoying life like the other girls' mothers." Mrs.Comstock laughed softly as she pushed back her sunbonnet so that shrubs and bushes beside the way could be scanned closely.

Elnora walked ahead with a case over her shoulder, a net in her hand.

Her head was bare, the rolling collar of her lavender gingham dress was cut in a V at the throat, the sleeves only reached the elbows.

Every few steps she paused and examined the shrubbery carefully, while Mrs.Comstock was watching until her eyes ached, but there were no dandelions in the pail she carried.
Early June was rioting in fresh grasses, bright flowers, bird songs, and gay-winged creatures of air.