The woods were full of the echo of fairy laughter.

Wild flowers ran riot among the fields.

Delicate-footed May was following on the heels of April with its slight fingers full of added glory for the earth.
There was something soft and English in the look of the trees and fields as they came nearer to the old house.

They might have been driving through the kind garden of Kent.
Framed in the fine Colonial doorway stood the tall old man with his white head and fireless eyes, the little distinguished woman still charged with electricity and the two veteran dogs with their hollow barks.
"Not one blushing bride, but two," said Grandmother Ludlow.

"How romantic." She presented her cheek to the nervous Mrs.Harley.