All at once the spring was dear and beautiful
to her once more; for love had entered again into her heart,
and her starved soul was feasting on its divine nourishment.
Old Lady Lloyd found a wealth of Mayflowers on the sandy hill.
She filled her basket with them, gloating over the loveliness
which was to give pleasure to Sylvia. When she got home she
wrote on a slip of paper, "For Sylvia." It was not likely anyone
in Spencervale would know her handwriting, but, to make sure,
she disguised it, writing in round, big letters like a child's.
She carried her Mayflowers down to the hollow and heaped
them in a recess between the big roots of the old beech,
with the little note thrust through a stem on top.
Then the Old Lady deliberately hid behind the spruce clump.
She had put on her dark green silk on purpose for hiding.
She had not long to wait. Soon Sylvia Gray came down
the hill with Mattie Spencer. When she reached the bridge
she saw the Mayflowers and gave an exclamation of delight.
Then she saw her name and her expression changed to wonder.
The Old Lady, peering through the boughs, could have laughed
for very pleasure over the success of her little plot.
"For me!" said Sylvia, lifting the flowers.
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