The birds were singing blithely amid the trees,—the lowing of the cows resounded from the yard,—a delicious perfume from the garden was wafted through the open window,—at a distance, the church-bells of Willesden were heard tolling for evening service. ‘It is nothing at all of the kind. "On my soul, yes," rejoined Jonathan. As he moved about upon the starling, Mr. " "There, now! You mustn't get mixed. For a few moments Mr. Miss Miniver looked over her glasses at her friend almost balefully. One’s sense of proportion, battered out of all shape in the daily life of cities, reasserts itself.
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