Those walks to church, through the golden completeness of the summer evenings, were always very pleasant to us, and we never hurried, though, on the other hand, we were very careful not to be late.
This particular evening was particularly beautiful.

It was cool after a hot day, and wheat fields all about us were ripening to their harvestry.
The wind gossiped with the grasses along our way, and over them the buttercups danced, goldenly-glad.

Waves of sinuous shadow went over the ripe hayfields, and plundering bees sang a freebooting lilt in wayside gardens.
"The world is so lovely tonight," said the Story Girl.

"I just hate the thought of going into the church and shutting all the sunlight and music outside.

I wish we could have the service outside in summer." "I don't think that would be very religious," said Felicity.
"I'd feel ever so much more religious outside than in," retorted the Story Girl.
"If the service was outside we'd have to sit in the graveyard and that wouldn't be very cheerful," said Felix.
"Besides, the music isn't shut out," added Felicity.