'Very warm and pleasant,' murmured Mrs. Marston, and dropped into a
doze.

Edward listened to the thrushes; they were flinging their voices--as
jugglers fling golden balls--against the stark sides of the quarry. Up
went a rush of bright notes, pattered on the gloomy wall, and returned
again defeated.

To Edward, as he watched Hazel, they seemed like people thanking God
for blessings, and being heard and blessed again. To Hazel, they seemed
so many other Hazels singing because it was a festal day. To Mrs.
Marston they were 'noisy birds, and very disturbing.' Martha
crotcheted. She was making edging, hundreds of yards of it, for wedding
garments. This was all the more creditable, as it was an act of faith,
for no young man had as yet seemed at all desirous of Martha.

At last the traction engine appeared, and Mrs. Marston was hoisted into
the trailer--a large truck with scarlet-painted sides, and about half
full of stone. This had been shovelled away from the front to make room
for Mrs. Marston and Hazel. A flap in the scarlet side was let down,
and with the help of one of the traction men Edward and Martha got her
safely settled. She really was a very splendid old lady. Her hat, a
kind of spoon-shape, was trimmed lavishly with black glass grapes, that
clashed together softly when she moved. There was also a veil with
white chenille spots. The hat was tied under her chin with black
ribbons, and her kind old face, very pink and plump and charming,
looked out pleasantly upon, the world. She wore her best mantle,
heavily trimmed with jet bugles, and her alpaca skirt was looped up
uncompromisingly with an old-fashioned skirt-hook made like a