who studied late behind his mustard-colored curtains; and the
confidant of her tenderer musings was the church-spire floating
in the sunset.

One April day, as she sat in her usual place, with knitting cast
aside and eyes fixed on the blue sky mottled with round clouds, a
knock at the door announced the entrance of her landlady. Mrs.
Manstey did not care for her landlady, but she submitted to her
visits with ladylike resignation. To-day, however, it seemed
harder than usual to turn from the blue sky and the blossoming
magnolia to Mrs. Sampson's unsuggestive face, and Mrs. Manstey
was conscious of a distinct effort as she did so.

"The magnolia is out earlier than usual this year, Mrs. Sampson,"
she remarked, yielding to a rare impulse, for she seldom alluded
to the absorbing interest of her life. In the first place it was
a topic not likely to appeal to her visitors and, besides, she
lacked the power of expression and could not have given utterance
to her feelings had she wished to.

"The what, Mrs. Manstey?" inquired the landlady, glancing about
the room as if to find there the explanation of Mrs. Manstey's
statement.

"The magnolia in the next yard--in Mrs. Black's yard," Mrs.
Manstey repeated.

"Is it, indeed? I didn't know there was a magnolia there," said
Mrs. Sampson, carelessly. Mrs. Manstey looked at her; she did
not know that there was a magnolia in the next yard!