IT was a lovely spring day—very lovely at Viamede, where Mrs. Travilla—or Grandma Elsie, as some of her young friends loved to call her—was seated under the orange trees on the flower-bespangled lawn, with her father and his wife, her cousins, Mr. Ronald Lilburn and Annis, his wife, her children, and some of the more distant relatives and friends gathered about her or wandering here and there at some little distance on the same beautiful lawn. “What a beautiful place this is!” exclaimed Zoe, breaking a pause in the conversation.…
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