There was a milk-white mist on the edge of the sea, with a young moon kissing it, and a silver gladness of stars over the Glen.
The bell of the church across the harbor was ringing dreamily sweet.
The mellow chime drifted through the dusk to mingle with the soft spring-moan of the sea.

Captain Jim's mayflowers added the last completing touch to the charm of the night.
"I haven't seen any this spring, and I've missed them," said Anne, burying her face in them.
"They ain't to be found around Four Winds, only in the barrens away behind the Glen up yander.

I took a little trip today to the Land-of-nothing-to-do, and hunted these up for you.

I reckon they're the last you'll see this spring, for they're nearly done." "How kind and thoughtful you are, Captain Jim.

Nobody else--not even Gilbert"-- with a shake of her head at him--"remembered that I always long for mayflowers in spring." "Well, I had another errand, too--I wanted to take Mr.Howard back yander a mess of trout.