Marian Kent Hurd, Miss Billy: A Neighborhood Story
“ Hennesy, drawing the shawl again over her eyes, turned away.The mist of Indian summer lay like a veil over Cherry Street. Out in the garden Miss-321- Billy's flowers were still blooming. The vines were breaking into crisp little tendrils about her window, the La France rose bush was heavy with buds, and the grass was as green and tender as when her feet had last pressed it. Miss Billy's friend, the bulldog, slept serenely on the Lee porch, and her canary trilled softly in the autumn sunshine.Life seemed to have vanished from the street itself. ”
