COMMUTER'S WIFE in 



the lower side of the hill. The silence was com- 

 plete, not even the plash of a drop of water or a 

 ripple in the sea of fog. Suddenly the sun, only 

 clear of the horizon, burned solidly through the 

 mist, a fire opal whose glints of green, scarlet, 

 yellow, and purple were caught by every leafless 

 twig and woven in a filmy tissue that covered the 

 grass. 



All day yesterday a flock of despondent robins 

 took shelter in the honeysuckles of the porch and 

 in the hemlock hedge. The old birds were silent, 

 the young males, however, occasionally giving a 

 call or trying a few notes, as it were, to cheer them- 

 selves; but it was a sad autumnal sound with a 

 sort of pibroch wail to it. 



This morning however, they were all darting 

 about across the lawn, and one, close above the 

 window, confided to my ear quite four bars of an 

 advance spring song. 



How we are all more or less creatures of Sun, 

 Shadow, and Imagination, impressed or depressed 

 by weather! As the musical robin flew to join 

 his mates, I remembered that it was to be a holiday 

 with Evan at home, and the consequent agreement 

 to disagree between Exact Time and Breakfast, so 

 I curled up comfortably in bed again, not intend- 



