We were quite frantic about it.

Suppose it kept on raining over Wednesday! Aunt Olivia couldn't be married in the orchard then.
That would be too bad, especially when the late apple tree had most obligingly kept its store of blossom until after all the other trees had faded and then burst lavishly into bloom for Aunt Olivia's wedding.

That apple tree was always very late in blooming, and this year it was a week later than usual.

It was a sight to see--a great tree-pyramid with high, far-spreading boughs, over which a wealth of rosy snow seemed to have been flung.

Never had bride a more magnificent canopy.
To our rapture, however, it cleared up beautifully Tuesday evening, and the sun, before setting in purple pomp, poured a flood of wonderful radiance over the whole great, green, diamond-dripping world, promising a fair morrow.