United States or Burundi ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
But, a little later, a thin voice came from the apple-tree's branch and said: "I am not a flea. I am the mistletoe." "Well, I'm no wiser," said the apple-tree. "I'm a plant like yourself," said the voice. "I shall turn into a bush ... with roots and branches and flowers and leaves and all the rest of it." "Then why don't you grow in the ground like us?" asked the crab-apple-tree.
"Aren't you going to kiss Aunt Avery under the mistletoe?" asked Gracie. "No," said Piers. "Aunt Avery may kiss me if she likes." He looked at Avery with his sudden, boyish laugh. "But I know she doesn't like, so that's an end of the matter." "How do you know?" persisted Gracie. "She's very fond of kissing. And anyone may kiss under the mistletoe."
Had she lingered on that last Christmas Eve, he wondered, when her candlestick held its sprig of mistletoe and her room was dressed in holly? Did she look back at the cheerful walls and the stately furniture before she blew out her light and went downstairs to ride madly off, wrapped in his father's coat?
They went into Martha's laughing, and found her standing upon a table hanging up Christmas boughs. The little tea-pot was in a bower of holly leaves, and held a posy of the scarlet hawthorn berries mixed with the white, waxy ones of the mistletoe. "You wont forget the birds, Martha? You have been stealing from their larder, I see." "I'm none o' that sort, Miss Phyllis.
Lord Rufford felt it himself and almost thought he might as well turn himself round and bid his sister and Miss Penge let him go. He must marry some day and why should not this girl do as well as any one else? The Duchess did not approve of young ladies hunting. She certainly would not have had her niece at Mistletoe had she expected such a performance. But she could not find fault now.
But still the voice followed them, and the man looked down at the maid, repeating the refrain of the song: "Oh, give to me my gui-l'annee, Monseigneur, je vous prie!" The maid looked up at the man tenderly, almost devoutly. "I have no Druid's mistletoe from the Chapel of St.
It was a few days after this, on Christmas Eve, that Sara, coming into his special den with a gay little joke on her lips and a great bunch of mistletoe in her arms, was arrested by the sudden, chill quiet of the little room.
"This is the only test," he said, and quick as a flash he encircled her with his arm and pressed a kiss upon her lips. She sprang aloof and looked at him with dilating eyes. He had often kissed her before, and she had thought nothing more of it than of a brother's salute. Was it a subtile, mysterious power in the mistletoe itself with which it had been endowed by ages of superstition?
"Why don't you join in the sport?" asked the wicked Loki. "I cannot see where Baldur is; and nothing could or would harm anyone so good," said the blind god. "I will show you where to sit and you shall have this little sprig that is in my hand to throw. You must not be left out of the sport because you are blind," and Loki handed the mistletoe to him.
But still the voice followed them, and the man looked down at the maid, repeating the refrain of the song: "Oh, give to me my gui-l'annee, Monseigneur, je vous prie!" The maid looked up at the man tenderly, almost devoutly. "I have no Druid's mistletoe from the Chapel of St.
Word Of The Day