what's o'clock
173
The man scuffed across a bridge and up a steep hill. "Quietly, quietly," whispered the barberry-bushes, and hid their scarlet tongues under the leaves. "Weep, Tree-Brothers," said the grapevines. But the long lines of trees only rustled and played hide and seek with the peeping moon. They were too tall to pay much heed to anything so small as an old man limping up a hill.
