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They had flatly refused to believe that this last little stranger was the first one, and had made great fun of Margary and her mother for being so credulous. But they had not minded. They had given their guest a little pallet stuffed with down, and a pillow stuffed with rose-leaves to sleep on, and fed him with the best they had.
Why should an angel thank God that he Bobby Clyffurde was not likely to die? He opened his eyes to see what it all meant, and he saw bending over him a face that was more exquisitely fair than any that man had ever seen: eyes that were more blue than the sky above, lips that trembled like rose-leaves in the breeze.
A passing breeze flings into her lap a few rose-leaves from a trailing tree that has climbed the balcony, and is now nodding drowsily as the day slowly dies. She is feeling a little sorry for Dulce, who is reciting her family history with such a doleful air. "Well, I needn't, you know," says that young lady, lightly; "not if I don't choose, you know.
Adopt the euthanasian method of electricity, asphyxia by smothering in rose-leaves, or slow poisoning with rich food, and the death penalty may come to be regarded as the object of a noble ambition to the bon vivant, and the rising young suicide may go and kill somebody else instead of himself, in order to receive from the public executioner a happier dispatch than his own 'prentice hand can assure him.
Take an ounce of Juniper, an ounce of Storax, half a dozen drops of the water of Cloves, six grains of Musk, a little Gum Dragon steept in water, and beat all this to paste, then roll it in little pieces as big as you please, then put them betwixt two Rose-leaves, and so dry them in a dish in an Oven, and being so dried, they will will burn with a most pleasant smell. To make Pomander.
She was gone hopelessly beyond recall, unless He unlocked the door of the drawing-room and went in. A faint breath of dried rose-leaves greeted him. He walked over to the empty fireplace and looked up at the sweet face of the portrait a long time. Then he leaned his arm on the mantel and bowed his head on it. "Oh, Amanthis," he groaned, "tell me what to do." Lloyd's own words came back to him.
The hour seemed ineffably rosy. "And to-morrow," he stated, "I go back to work." "My poor boy," said Marie, "and I shan't work any more." "Thank heaven, no." Osborn kissed the hand he held. "This must always stay as soft as rose-leaves," he said fondly. "You may count on my doing my best for it," said Marie laughing, "I like nice hands. No woman can look well-dressed without nicely-kept hands.
It is what they call a Turkish rosary; they say it is made of rose-leaves reduced to a paste and squeezed ever so hard together, and that the poor ladies that are shut up in the harems have little or nothing to do but to run them through their fingers."
"I told ye once," laughed the girl "the good old pertaties is good enough for me!" "And you remember," said he, "what I answered?" Yes, she remembered! Her cheeks took on the colour of the rose-leaves he had specified as her probable diet. And then the Rafferty children, who had got to know Hal well, joined in the teasing. "Mister Minetti! Lika da spagetti!"
She then drew forth some grains of sand, which she scattered on the floor. Instantly there arose on the spot a bed of rose-leaves three feet high; the bolster was of violets, heartsease and orange flowers, all breathing delicious perfumes; and the counterpane, entirely composed of butterflies' wings, exhibited colours so brilliant and varied that one could never be weary of examining it.
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