You are always so good.

I never had any one to walk with until you came, except old Aunty Gossberger, and she never let me look at anything." Days in June--joyous days with all nature brimful with laughter--days when the air is a caress, the sky a film of pearl and silver, and the eager mob of bud, blossom, and leaf, having burst their bonds, are flaunting their glories, days like these are always to be remembered the world over.

But June days about Gramercy Park are to be marked in big Red Letters upon the calendar of the year.

For in Gramercy Park the almanac goes to pieces.
Everything is ahead of time.

When little counter-panes of snow are still covering the baby crocuses away off in Central Park, down in Gramercy their pink and yellow heads are popping up all over the enclosure.