Oh , it was good to be alive -- to be a girl of seventeen , with wonderful ambitions and all the world before her ! The years of the future sparkled and gleamed alluringly . Jane Lavinia , with her head on the window sill , looked out into the sunset splendour and dreamed . Athwart her dreams , rending in twain their frail , rose-tinted fabric , came Aunt Rebecca 's voice from the kitchen below , `` Jane Lavinia ! Jane Lavinia ! Ai n't you going for the cows tonight ? '' Jane Lavinia started up guiltily ; she had forgotten all about the cows . She slipped off her muslin dress and hurried into her print ; but with all her haste it took time , and Aunt Rebecca was grimmer than ever when Jane Lavinia ran downstairs . `` It 'll be dark before we get the cows milked . I s ` pose you 've been day-dreaming again up there . I do wish , Jane Lavinia , that you had more sense . '' Jane Lavinia made no response . At any other time she would have gone out with a lump in her throat ; but now , after what Mr. Stephens had said , Aunt Rebecca 's words had no power to hurt her . `` After milking I 'll ask her about it , '' she said to herself , as she went blithely down the sloping yard , across the little mossy bridge over the brook , and up the lane on the hill beyond , where the ferns grew thickly and the grass was beset with tiny blue-eyes like purple stars . The air was moist and sweet . At the top of the lane a wild plum tree hung out its branches of feathery bloom against the crimson sky . Jane Lavinia lingered , in spite of Aunt Rebecca 's hurry , to look at it . It satisfied her artistic instinct and made her glad to be alive in the world where wild plums blossomed against springtime skies . The pleasure of it went with her through the pasture and back to the milking yard ; and stayed with her while she helped Aunt Rebecca milk the cows . When the milk was strained into the creamers down at the spring , and the pails washed and set in a shining row on their bench , Jane Lavinia tried to summon up her courage to speak to Aunt Rebecca .
They were out XXXXX the back verandah ; the spring twilight was purpling down over the woods and fields ; down in the swamp the frogs were singing a silvery , haunting chorus ; a little baby moon was floating in the clear sky above the white-blossoming orchard on the slope .
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