"
She went upstairs to the sitting-room, where Larry was rigging his boat
anew. He had been to the pond, but the wind wrought such havoc with
the little craft that he had to put into port for repairs.
Half an hour passed. Abby was dressing her beloved doll for an airing
on the sidewalk,--a promenade in a carriage, as the French say. While
thus occupied she half hummed, half sang, in a low voice, to herself, a
popular May hymn. When she reached the refrain, Larry joined, and
Delia appeared at the door just in time to swell the chorus with honest
fervor:
"See, sweet Mary, on thy altars
Bloom the fairest flowers of May.
Oh, may we, earth's sons and daughters,
Grow by grace as fair as they!"
"If you please," said Delia at its close, "there's a man below stairs
who says he has something for you both."
"For us!" exclaimed the children, starting up.
"Yes: your mother sent me to tell you. He says he was told to say as
how he had a May-basket for you."
"A May-basket, Delia? What! All lovely flowers like those I told you
about?" cried the little girl.
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