Reading

'Freesias!' breathed Dimity with rapture, thinking how dreadfully extravagant dear Charles has been, and yet how delicious it was to have such treasures brought to her. 'How very, very kind, Charles.  They are easily our favorite flowers.'

The rector murmured politely while Dimity unwrapped them.  Their fragrance mingled with the faint smell of wood smoke that lingered in the room and the rector thought, yet again, how warm and full of life the small room was.  Ella's book lay face downward on the arm of a chair, her spectacles lodged across it.  Dimity's knitting had been hastily put aside when she answered the door, and decorated the low table near the fire.  The clock ticked merrily, the fire whispered and cracked, the cat purred upon the window-sill, sitting foursquare and smug after its midday meal."

Miss Read

Winter in Thrush Green