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Updated: May 18, 2025
The dog replied with three short barks, wagging his tail vigorously and turning toward the half-opened door that led into the room where the girl lay. By this time, willing to try any chance whatever of reviving his daughter, Mr. Min bade the animal follow him into Honeysuckle's apartment.
'Dear me! exclaimed the Butterfly, as one very hot day he alighted to rest upon one of the Honeysuckle's leaves. 'Dear me! he repeated, surveying her critically; 'why, really I did not know you again. How did you contrive to get so high up in the world? 'Kind hearts, loving hands, helped me, was the simple answer given. 'Oh, indeed! he curtly said. 'Well, I owe gratitude to no one.
Day after day he ran at Honeysuckle's side as she gathered flowers in her garden, lay down before her door when she was resting, guarded her Sedan chair when she was carried by servants into the city. In short, they were constant companions; a stranger would have thought they had been friends from childhood.
The noble dog barked three times, wild with delight at hearing these tearful words of gratitude, bowed low, and put his nose in Honeysuckle's outstretched hand. Mr.
Bainton waited a moment, and then, unable any longer to control his curiosity, seized his ladder and deliberately carried it across the lawn, though he knew that that was not the proper way to the tool-shed where it was kept. Halting close to the seat under the apple-tree, he said: "Yon red honeysuckle's comin' on fine, Passon, it be as full o' bud as a pod o' peas."
The marigolds with their orange suns, the lilies' white flame, the corncockle's blue crown of many flowers, the honeysuckle's horn of fragrance I can paraphrase them, name, class, dissect them; and then, save for the purposes of human intercourse, I stand where I stood before, my world bounded by my capacity, the secret of colour and fragrance still kept.
The angel laughed at the honeysuckle's quaint conceit, but made no reply, for yonder he saw a purple aster he fain would question. "Are you then so busy," asked the angel, "that you turn your head away from every other thing and look always into the sky?" "Do not interrupt me," murmured the purple aster.
The rose was not yet in bloom, and the honeysuckle's red trumpets were not blown their parts in the symphony of the spring were farther on; over the arbor there was only a delicate prickling of new leaves, which cast a lace-like shadow underneath. A bench ran around the three closed sides of the arbor, and upon the bench sat Lucina and her aunt Camilla, in her spread of lilac flounces.
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