It is spring, is it not?
Look how the birds are collecting twigs for their nests! I wonder how they know that the time has come round again.

Sweet little birds! How bold and merry they are." She edged her way a little nearer him, so that her shoulder leaned on his arm.
"My dear, I wish you were going to nest, too," she said.

"I wonder--do you think I have been ill-natured and unkind to your Sylvia, and that makes her not come to see me now?
I do remember being vexed at her for not wanting to marry you, and perhaps I talked unkindly about her.

I am sorry, for my being cross to her will do no good; it will only make her more unwilling than ever to marry a man who has such an unpleasant mamma.

Will she come to see me again, do you think, if I ask her ?" These good hours were too rare in their appearances and swift in their vanishings to warrant the certainty that she would feel the same this afternoon, and Michael tried to turn the subject.
"Ah, we shall have to think about that, mother," he said.