When Pearl woke on the morning of March 1st, it was with a heart so
light and happy it brought back the many Christmas mornings that
lay scattered behind her like so many crimson roses, spilling their
perfume on the shining road which led back to childhood. The sunshine
that sifted through the white muslin curtains of the one small window,
was rich and warm, as if summer had already come, and Pearl suddenly
remembered that the sky had been overcast and heavy the day before,
and the air stinging cold.

She went to the window, and looking out saw that that the clouds had
all gone, leaving no trace in the unscarred sky. The sun was throwing
long blue shadows over the fields, brightening the trees on the river
bank, with a thin rinse of pale gold. Down in the ravine, the purple
blue of the morning twilight was still hanging on the trees. The house
was very quiet--there did not seem to be anyone stirring, either
inside or out.

Pearl dressed herself hastily, humming a tune in happy excitement. Her
whole being was charged with happiness--for the great day had come.

Coming down stairs on light feet, she threw a red sweater around her
shoulders and went out the front door. In her great moments, Pearl
craved the open sky and great blue distances, and on this day of all
days, she wanted to breathe deep of its golden air. Somewhere she had
read about air that tasted like old wine! And as she stood facing the
early sun that had come up in a cloudless sky of deepest blue, she
knew what was meant.

From the dull tomb of yesterday, with its cavern-like coldness
and gloom, had come the resurrection of a new day, bright, blue,