`` She left her husband and run away with another man . '' `` I suppose it was bad four thousand years ago , '' admitted the Story Girl . `` But by this time the bad must have all gone out of it . It 's only the good that could last so long . '' Our summer was over . It had been a beautiful one . We had known the sweetness of common joys , the delight of dawns , the dream and glamour of noontides , the long , purple peace of carefree nights . We had had the pleasure of bird song , of silver rain on greening fields , of storm among the trees , of blossoming meadows , and of the converse of whispering leaves . We had had brotherhood with wind and star , with books and tales , and hearth fires of autumn . Ours had been the little , loving tasks of every day , blithe companionship , shared thoughts , and adventuring . Rich were we in the memory of those opulent months that had gone from us -- richer than we then knew or suspected . And before us was the dream of spring . It is always safe to dream of spring . For it is sure to come ; and if it be not just as we have pictured it , it will be infinitely sweeter . DING-DONG ! Ding-dong ! Ding-dong ! The town crier has rung his bell , at a distant corner , and little Annie stands on her father 's doorsteps , trying to hear what the man with the loud voice is talking about . Let me listen too . O , he is telling the people that an elephant , and a lion , and a royal tiger , and a horse with horns , and other strange beasts from foreign countries , have come to town , and will receive all visitors who choose to wait upon them !
Perhaps little Annie would like XXXXX go .
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