"I shall be glad to see my old friend Apollonie again! March ahead now!" They had soon reached the cottage at the foot of the hill, which lay bathed in brilliant sunshine.

Only the old apple-tree in the corner threw a shadow over the wooden bench beneath it and over a part of the little garden.

Grandmother and grandchild were sitting on the bench dressed in their Sunday-best and with a book on their knees.

A delicious perfume of rosemary and mignonette filled the air from the little flower-beds.

Uncle Philip looked over the top of the hedge into the garden.
"Real Sunday peace is resting on everything here.