"No, according to the almanac, I believe, it has been Spring for ten
days. Nature does not move according to man's laws, but she forces him
to observe hers--except in almanacs."

[Sidenote: Kindly Shadows]

The firelight made kindly shadows in the room, softening the
unloveliness and lending such beauty as it might. It gave to Ambrose
North's fine, strong face the delicacy and dignity of an old miniature.
It transfigured Barbara's yellow hair into a crown of gold, and put a
new gentleness into Miriam's lined face as she sat in the half-light,
one of them in blood, yet singularly alien and apart.

"What are you doing, Barbara?" The sensitive hands strayed to her lap
and lifted the sheer bit of linen upon which she was working.

"Making lingerie by hand."

"You have a great deal of it, haven't you?"

"Not as much as you think, perhaps. It takes a long time to do it well."

"It seems to me you are always sewing."

"Girls are very vain these days, Father. We need a great many pretty
things."

"Your dear mother used to sew a great deal. She--" His voice broke, for
even after many years his grief was keenly alive.