n she lay down on the old sofa in the hall
for a moment's rest before going to the kitchen to cook supper and make
tea-cakes for the May Meeting basket. After supper she sewed buttons on
Lucy Ellen's frock and little John's blouse and, being a woman and
young, she thought of the pale blue dimity she had hoped to wear to the
May Meeting, because pale blue was John's favorite color.

But in the matter of women's clothes, John was not quick to distinguish
between the new and the old, and there was nothing but loving admiration
in his eyes the next morning as he stood at the foot of the stairs and
looked up at Mary in a last year's gown of dark blue linen with collar
and cuffs of delicate embroidery. He helped her into the carriage, and
away they went down the elm-shaded road. The carriage was shabby, but
there was a strain of noble blood in the horse, that showed itself in a
smooth, even gait, and Mary's eyes brightened, and the color came into
her face, as she felt the exhilaration that swift motion always brings.

The poet who sang the enchantment of "midsummer nights" might have sung
with equal rapture of May mornings, when there is a sun to warm you
through, and a breeze to temper the warmth with a touch of April's
coolness; when the flowers on the earth's bosom, touched by the
sunshine, gleam and glow like the jewels in the breastplate of the high
priest, and the heart beats strong with the joy of winter past and the
joy of summer to come.

Mary leaned back with the long, deep sigh of perfect happiness. Of late
she had been striving with "a life awry", but now her soul

"Smoothed itself out, a long-cramped scroll,
Freshening and fluttering in the wind."

It was May Meeting Sunday. Nobody could come to use the chart, and she
and John were riding together. A redbird carolled to its mate in the top
of a wayside elm, and she laughed like a child.

"Listen to that sweet bird!" she exclaimed. "Why, it can almost talk.
Don't you hear the words it's singing?

"'Sweet! Sweet! Sweet!
_With_ you!
_With_ you!'"

"Smart bird," said John. "Sees you and me together and makes a song
about it." And Mary laughed and blushed as her eyes met John's.

"Oh!" she sighed, "I almost wish we could ride on and on and never come
to the church. It seems a pity to lose any of this sunshine and wind."

"Just say the word," said John, "and we'll keep right on and have a May
Meetin' all to ourselves out at Blu