There were many
babies and nurses, and children laughing and crying and shouting, and a
sky of mild forget-me-not blue smiled protectingly upon them. Angelina's
eyes were fixed upon the fountain, which flashed and sparkled in the air
with a happy freedom that seemed to catch all the life of the garden
within its heart. Angelina felt how immensely she and Rose might have
enjoyed all this had they been alone. Her eyes gazed longingly at the
almond tree; she wished that she might go off on a voyage of discovery
for, on this day of all days, did its shadow seem to hold some pressing,
intimate invitation. "I shall get back--I shall get back.... He'll come
and take me; I'll remember all the old things," she thought. She and
Rose--what a time they might have if only---- She glanced up at her aunt.
"Look at that nice little boy, Angelina," Aunt Emily said. "See how
good----" But at that very instant that same playful breeze that had been
ruffling the daffodils, and sending shimmers through the fountain
decided that now was the moment to catch Miss Emily's black hat at one
corner, prove to her that the pin that should have fastened it to her
hair was loose, and swing the whole affair to one side.
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