commanding figure; his head was almost too massive for even his broad
shoulders; his black hair was wellnigh shaggy in its thickness; and his
dark gray eyes looked out from under eyebrows which were like projecting
eaves, and threw shadows on his cheeks below. Hetty's fair, rosy face,
and golden-brown curls, were thrown out into relief by all this dark
coloring so near, as a sunbeam is when it plays on a dark cloud. The
rooms were full of the delicate fragrance of apple blossoms. The corners
were filled with them; the walls were waving with them. Sally had begged
permission to have, for once, all the apple blossoms she desired; and,
despite groans and grumblings from Mike, she had rifled the orchards.

"Faith, an' a good tin bushel she's taken off the russets," Mike said to
Norah; "an' as for thim gillies yer was so fond of, there's none left to
spake of on any o' the trees. Now if she'd er tuk thim old blue pearmain
trees, I wouldn't have said a word. But, 'Oh no!' sez she, 'I must have
all pink uns;' an' it was jest the pink uns that was our best trees;
that's jest as much sinse as ye wimmin 's got."

"Wull, thin, an' I'm thinkin' yer wouldn't have grudged Miss Hetty her
own apples, if it was in barrls ye had 'em," replied the practical
Norah, "an' I don't see where 's the differ."

"Yer don't!" said Mike, angrily. "If it had ha plazed God to make a man
o' yer, ye'd ha known more 'n yer do;" and with this characteristically
masculine shifting of his premises, Mike turned his back on Norah.

Neither Hetty nor Doctor Eben had ever heard that lovers should not wed
in May; and, as they looked up at the great fragrant pink and white
boughs on the walls, Hetty exclaimed: "Nobody ought to be married except
when apple-trees are in bloom. Nothing else could have been half so