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Updated: May 24, 2025
The pale purple cyclamen, with its hood thrown back, stands up in masses as dense as tulip-beds; and here and there in the duskier places great sheets of forget- me-not seem to exhale a faint blue mist.
"W-e-e-ll," he drawled, "I guess likely you might call it a forget- me-not present, if you had to call it anything." Barbara pondered. "A a forget-me-not is a kind of flower, isn't it?" she asked. "Um-hm." "But this is a windmill. How can you make a flower out of a windmill, Uncle Jed?" Jed rubbed his chin. "Well, that's a question," he admitted.
Her figur' was as light as a fairy's, and her waist was so taper and tiny, it seemed jist made for puttin' an arm round in walkin'. She was as active and springy on her feet as a catamount, and near about as touch me-not a sort of customer too. She actilly did seem as if she was made out of steel springs and chicken-hawk.
She was just high enough to see above the edge, and her two hands lay sprawled, fingers extended, upon the shining sill. "Yes," she mentioned quietly, as to herself, "and I'll have a forget- me-not." Her eyes rolled up sideways, meeting those of her uncle as he turned and noticed her. For quite suddenly he "noticed" her, became aware that she was there, discovered her.
"Well, we felt as if you probably had all you could do to take care of yourself." "Are you married, Howard?" "No, Mother; and there ain't any excuse for me-not a bit," he said, dropping back into her colloquialisms."I'm ashamed when I think of how long it's been since I saw you. I could have come." "It don't matter now," she interrupted gently. "It's the way things go.
"Yet you have put the flower that my English mother called 'Forget- me-not. Ah, maiden, has it a purpose?" "Madame, madame, ask me no questions. Only remember in your prayers to ask that I may do the right," said Grisell, with clasped hands and weeping eyes. I beheld the pageants splendid, that adorned those days of old; Stately dames, like queens attended, knights who bore the Fleece of Gold.
Her figur' was as light as a fairy's, and her waist was so taper and tiny, it seemed jist made for puttin' an arm round in walkin'. She was as active and springy on her feet as a catamount, and near about as touch me-not a sort of customer too. She actilly did seem as if she was made out of steel springs and chicken-hawk.
These she was fond of relieving by a bit of light blue, her favourite colour. The slim young Italian, with her bowed head and beautiful pale face framed in its black hair, seemed like an elf who had gone out in her light dress to dance the May dance in the moonlight and had decked herself with forget- me-not and gentian.
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