KILMENY OF THE ORCHARD

CHAPTER I

THE THOUGHTS OF YOUTH

HE sunshine of a day in early

spring, honey pale and honey

sweet, was showering over the red brick buildings of Queenslea College and the grounds about them, throwing through the bare, budding maples and elms, delicate, evasive etchings of gold and brown on the paths, and coaxing into life the daffodils that were peering greenly and perkily up under the windows of the co—eds’ dressing-room.

A young April wind, as fresh and sweet as if it had been blowing over the fields of memory instead of through dingy

I