different color haunted the tree-tops, and one had only to look
closely at the elm buds to see that they were beginning to swell.
Some fat robins had been sunning about in the school-yard at
noon, and sparrows had been chirping and twittering on the
fence-rails. Yes, the winter was over, and Ivory was glad, for it
had meant no coasting and -skating and sleighing for him, but
long walks in deep snow or slush; long evenings, good for study,
but short days, and greater loneliness for his mother. He could
see her now as he neared the house, standing in the open doorway,
her hand shading her eyes, watching, always watching, for some
one who never came.

"Spring is on the way, mother, but it isn't here yet, so don't
stand there in the rain," he called. "Look at the nosegay I
gathered for you as I came through the woods. Here are pussy
willows and red maple blossoms and Mayflowers, would you believe
it?"

Lois Boynton took the handful of budding things and sniffed their
fragrance.

"You're late to-night, Ivory," she said. "Rod wanted his supper
early so that he could go off to singing-school, but I kept
something warm for you, and I'll make you a fresh cup of tea."

Ivory went into the little shed room off the kitchen, changed his
muddy boots for slippers, and made himself generally tidy; then
he came back to the living-room bringing a pine knot which he
flung on the fire, waking it to a brilliant flame.