138 EVERYDAY ADVENTURES 



meadows scores of meadow-larks cried, "Swee-eet, 

 swee-eet." Westering down the sky sank the cres- 

 cent new moon, with blazing Jupiter in her train. 

 As the Band climbed Violet Hill and swung into the 

 long lane which ended in home, they heard the last 

 and loveliest bird-song of that whole dear day. 

 Through the gathering darkness came a sweet and 

 dreamy croon, the love-song of the little owl. Even 

 as they listened, the distant door of the house opened 

 and, framed in the lamp-light, waiting for them, was 

 Mother, the best treasure of all. 



