Somehow the world had never before seemed half so beautiful to Betty as it did now.

The May skies had never been quite so blue, or the afternoon sunshine so heavenly golden.

She sang as she went, swinging Davy's warm little hand in hers.

It was only one of Mother Goose's old melodies, but she sang it as a bird sings, for sheer gladness: "Gay go up and gay go down, To ring the bells of London town.".