Dewy freshness, tender green, mist of bloom, and a thousand songs were far away, and yet upon the bench beneath the catalpa there was spring.
"The sun is setting," said Unity at last.

"Let us go speak to Uncle Dick." "He'll be glad, I think.

May I stay to supper?
I want to hear Unity Dandridge sing afterwards." "Yes, Uncle Dick will be glad--he and Uncle Edward will be very glad.

I don't believe that Unity Dandridge will want to sing to-night.

She'll be thinking of that grave in the flower garden." "No! She shall think of the sunrise at Greenwood--sunrise and splendid roses and the million harps of heaven playing!" "Oh!" cried Unity, "the sunrise at Greenwood should have been for your brother!" "Yes, for him and your cousin.