She drew up the blinds and opened the window itself and a great waft of fresh, scented air blew in upon her.
The moor was blue and the whole world looked as if something Magic had happened to it.

There were tender little fluting sounds here and there and everywhere, as if scores of birds were beginning to tune up for a concert.

Mary put her hand out of the window and held it in the sun.
"It's warm--warm!" she said.

"It will make the green points push up and up and up, and it will make the bulbs and roots work and struggle with all their might under the earth." She kneeled down and leaned out of the window as far as she could, breathing big breaths and sniffing the air until she laughed because she remembered what Dickon's mother had said about the end of his nose quivering like a rabbit's.

"It must be very early," she said.