"I'll go up this afternoon," returned Anne, picking up the whip and
flicking the pony. The farmer said "Good morning," and the rattle of
milk cans once more filled the road as his horse set off at a gallop
towards home.




CHAPTER XVIII


When the business of the market was done, and Anne reached the Union, it
was late in the afternoon. The roads outside the town were full of
farmers returning from the market, of women walking with empty baskets,
and an occasional small herd of cattle, being driven away from the
terrifying experience of the town, by a purchaser. It was visiting-day
at the Union, and here and there from the out-going stream, a man or
woman of middle-age turned aside to enter the gate of the big brick
building, in whose side-garden men were working, dressed in the
bottle-green corduroy of the institution.

The presence of spring seemed to surge about the bare building. The
trees planted about it were old, and belonged to an older building which
protruded from the back; the weather-stained wall was old also, and the
sunlight, older than either, shone with an urgent warmth beneath the
heavy green shade. Rows of green blades were appearing in the border,
set aside for ornament. The air, the clouds, the light near the ground,
all seemed alive with the peculiar revival only felt in the spring.