The valley of Wawona was laid out on the plan of those fairy rings,
_alias_ glacier meadows, which they had seen in higher places, only this
was a fairy ring on a grander scale. It seemed so hidden by a belt of
mountains that its green lawns, its gardens, its fountains and flowers
might have been originally discovered only by some happy accident. But the
discoverer being of a practical turn of mind, he or his descendants had
built a delightful though unobtrusive hotel on a spot which might still
have been warm from the fairies. On the veranda of the hotel was Kate,
beaming with smiles of welcome as the buckboard coming down from Glacier
Point brought her mistress in sight.
"Oh, it was a lovely place!" said Kate. And sure, how happy she and Timmy
were to be there at last. She had arrived hours ago, and was nicely
rested, yes, thank you, ma'am.
There were saucers of white violets, and vases of iris and Washington
lilies in Mrs. May's bedroom. Here were no embarrassing complications
connected with "Mr." May and "Mrs." Hilliard. All was peace; and as the
dust which had turned Angela's golden hair to silver was being brushed
away by Kate, the tale of the maid's adventures was unfolded. Yet Angela,
smiling gently, as she inhaled the sweetness of violets, hardly listened.
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