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"Oh, what is going to happen? What am I going to see now?" The iris swayed gently. One of the petals curved in at the edge, and Maya saw a tiny snow-white human hand holding on to the flower's rim with its wee little fingers. Then a small blond head arose, and then a delicate luminous body in white garments. A human being in miniature was coming up out of the iris.
Do your dooty, mother, for we must be out of this, bag and baggage, in half an hour." Without a word or a sigh, or even a glance of remorse, Mrs. Jones took the cap from Flower's head, and feeling around her neck discovered the gold chain which held the little bag of valuables. Without opening this she slipped it into her pocket.
Whatever happens, Scorpion mustn't bark. Give him to me!" Before Mrs. Cameron had time to utter a word or in any way to expostulate, she found herself dragged down beside Flower, Flower's head transferred to her capacious lap, and the precious Scorpion snatched out of her arms. Polly's firm, muscular young fingers tightly held the dog's mouth, and in an instant Scorpion and she were out of sight.
At the peculiar veiled tone that had come into her voice; at this reminder of a past day of alternate rapture and despair, so different from the secured happiness of the present; at the thought of this common memory that had built itself up for them round a flower's scent, a rush of grateful content overcame Maurice, and, for the first time since entering the room, he looked up at her with a lover's eyes.
Thus they made the tour of the stables; and though Henry's remarks on the subject of slapped horse-flesh had been anything but those of an expert, it was tacitly agreed that Mr. Flower and he had taken to each other. Nor, as he presently found, were Mr. Flower's interests limited to horses. "You're a reader, I see," he said, presently, when they had returned to the office.
On all hands, every one fell in love with her. Even Polly resigned her favorite seat for her, even Helen looked without pain at mother's beloved chair when Flower's lissome figure filled it. The younger children were forever offering flowers and fruit at her shrine.
Both knew the strange, angular, slashing hand-writing at a glance, for both had seen and remarked it before. It was Nanette Flower's. Dropping the envelope on the table he had found it on the floor Webb led the way to the open air. There was then no time to compare views. There stood the sergeant.
"I'll tell you another time," he said; for he had a good deal to tell her about Angel Flower. The Man in Possession was becoming more and more a favourite at Mr. Flower's. One day Mr. Flower, taking pity on his loneliness, suggested that he might possibly prefer to have his lunch in company with them all down at the house.
And as Henry caught a glance of his eyes, he realised that Derbyshire was Mr. Flower's poetry, the poetry of a countryman imprisoned in the town, and that when he died he just hoped to go to Derbyshire.
Ay, and that pleasure which the eye doth prove, By nature, of the flower's view, like delight Doth give me as I saw the very wight Who hath inflamed me of his dulcet love, And what its scent thereover and above Worketh in me, no words indeed can say; But sighs thereof bear witness true for me,
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