"
He looked so brown and radiant, this dear delightful boy, with his
gold-brown tie, and yellow rose. She was conscious of her pallor,
and oppressive earnestness, as she said: "The letters will be here."
"Oh, bother the letters!" cried Garth. "Let's have a holiday from
letters on May Day! You shall be Queen of the May; and Margery shall
be the old mother. I will be Robin, with the breaking heart, leaning
on the bridge beneath the hazel tree; and Simpson can be the 'bolder
lad.' And we will all go and 'gather knots of flowers, and buds, and
garlands gay.'"
"Mr. Dalmain," said Nurse Rosemary, laughing, in spite of herself,
"you really must be sensible, or I shall go and consult Margery. I
have never seen you in such a mood."
"You have never seen me, on a day when something was going to
happen," said Garth; and Nurse Rosemary made no further attempt to
repress him.
After breakfast, he went to the piano, and played two-steps, and
rag-time music, so infectiously, that Simpson literally tripped as
he cleared the table; and Nurse Rosemary, sitting pale and
preoccupied, with a pile of letters before her, had hard work to
keep her feet still.
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