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“Awfully hard, Billy. Some of them had ‘grief swimming in their eyes.’” Rain dropped her gray mantle behind a tree, and reappeared with her chalice of diamond-dust dew, to touch the fairy chorus to shimmering beauty. The gnomes, their queer masks and hunched shoulders showing grotesquely under their gray garb, joined the fairies’ dance. Wind came floating in as Summer Breeze. Storm was transformed to the Slave of the Sower; while Black Frost was perched high up at the rear, grinning from the top of the mountain. Mrs. Bennett heard anxiety in the voices of the visitors, and came out. “Come, come! We can’t be cremated while we wait. Mush!”.