All around the place, except where the path
was, trees and bushes hung over the grass. The buds were just opening
here, too, and the air was full of the smell of the new spring grass
and leaves, which always grows stronger in the evening.
Kathleen stood gazing at the boys and girls dancing. There were so
many of them that she could not count them. She thought that they
seemed to be a little younger and smaller than herself. The boys all
wore green jackets and red caps. When she looked at them more closely
she could not tell whether they were boys at all or not. They looked
more like old men. And she could scarcely believe that either, because
they danced so fast and seemed so lively. Her father could not dance
like that, she was sure, and he was not an old man.
But she had no doubt that the girls were girls. Usually she could not
tell a pretty girl from an ugly one, any more than any other girl can,
but she knew that these were pretty. Anybody would. They had long,
golden hair that hung all loose and free and came down to their knees,
when the little wind did not blow it away in some other direction.
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