The short winter passed quickly and before Mary knew it spring had come. The old black plum tree beside her door hid its knotty black branches with soft white blossoms, which became thicker and sweeter hour by hour as the sunshine gathered strength, and when honey-bees climbed in and out of them showers of fragrant petals were scattered around the old tree's foot. The crab-apple thickets were masses of soft pink. The birds which had gone away for the winter had come home and were picking out nesting-places. Tender green leaves screened a brown nest in the fig tree where a mocking-bird laid its eggs. The woods and hedgerows were alive with bird chatter. Woodpeckers and jays and redbirds scolded and fussed among themselves noisily. Humming-birds fluttered in and out of the red woodbine. A wren chose her last year's home in the knot-hole at one side of Mary's door. A bluebird used her same nesting-place in the corner post of the garden fence. Larks hopped about the fields and in the roads; doves mourned tenderly; squirrels chased each other up and down trees.
