God's creatures of tree and field and hill took form.

Man's creature, the little stout church in their midst, thrust once more its plebeian outline against God's sky.

Dim shapes moved athwart the vacancy of the meadows.

Voices called through the gray.
Close against the eaves a secret was twittered, was passed from beak to beak.

In the nursery below a little twitter of waking children broke the stillness of the house.
But Hester did not hear it.