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Yes, you'll pass, and you don't look a day older than Polly and Peggy even if you are hiding away a sheepskin somewhere in that suitcase yonder. Yes, I'll adopt you as my girl, and by crackey I'm going to seal it," and with that he took the bonny face in both hands and kissed each rosy cheek. Poor Gail, if the skies had dropped she couldn't have been more nonplussed.
For with Flossie it was spring-time too. Under the little clerk's correctness and demureness there ran and mingled with her blood the warm undercurrent of a dream. The dream had come to her many springs ago; and as Flossie grew plumper and rosier it grew plump and rosy too. Compared with that vision of Flossie's, no dream was ever so soft, so rosy and so young.
The owner of this interesting stock-in-trade and the postmistress of St. Rest, was a quaint-looking little woman, very rosy, very round, very important in her manner, very brisk and bright with her eyes, but very slow with her fingers.
"Certainly, Captain Spike," she answered, rising. "A craft should never go astern, and I am quite willing to ballast the boat. We have seen such terrible accidents today, that all should lend their aid in endeavouring to get under way, and in averting all possible hamper. Only take me to my poor, dear Rosy, Captain Spike, and everything shall be forgotten that has passed between us.
Frank said, "That's good!" and nodded with his most cordial smile at Jill who pulled herself up with cheeks now as rosy as the red carnation, and a little catch in her breath as she said to herself, "It's too lovely to be true."
The mayflowers were budding under the snow, and as spring came on the fresh perfume began to steal out, the rosy faces to brighten, and the last year's dead leaves to fall away, leaving the young plants green and strong. On the 15th of May the club met for the last time that season, as some left town early, and all were full of spring work and summer plans.
Rosy wuz Ralph's only child, a pretty girl, but one ruther wild, and needin' jest now a father's strong hand. Rosy's mother died when she wuz a babe, and Ralph, who had always been dretful religius, felt it to be his duty to go and preach to the savages.
The awe-struck, shy, yet sorrowful look on his rosy face showed preparation enough, and Richard's only preface was to say, "It is a bit of a letter that she was in course of writing to Aunt Flora, a description of us all. The letter itself is gone, but here is a copy of it. I thought you would like to read what relates to yourself."
He turned and kissed Saffy, but still said nothing. Hester's face flushed a "celestial rosy red." Her first thought was of the lovely things of the country and the joy of them. Like Moses on mount Pisgah, she looked back on the desert of a London winter, and forth from the heart of a blustering spring into a land of promise.
Colin came to the rescue. "I don't think it is best to know it," he said, "at least not Rosy's way, for she thinks it of everybody." "No, I don't," said Rosy, "not everybody." "Well, you think it of great lots, any way. I'd rather think some people good who aren't good than think some people who are good not good wouldn't you, Bee?"
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