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When Crastin had uttered these Verses with a Tenderness which at once spoke Passion and Respect, Honoria cast a triumphant Glance at Flavia, as exulting in the Elegance of Crastin's Courtship, and upbraiding her with the Homeliness of Tulip's.
Her beauty owed not its peculiar charm to any regularity of feature; but to an ineffable sweetness of expression, and to youth's freshest bloom. Hafiz would have compared that smooth cheek to the tulip's flower. Her eye-lashes, of the deepest jet, and silken gloss, were of uncommon length. Her lips were apart, and disclosed small but exquisitely formed teeth.
There were small playmates of Tulip's childhood, each with its little conceit of treasure: one had a toy, and another a lamb, another a bird; and all of them hunted and caught the thing they loved, and kissed it and again let go. So it went on, over and over again, more sad than the sight of a quaker as he twiddles his thumbs.
Oh, here is that copy of verses I told you about. Intra Muros. The sunbeams, lost for half a year, Slant through my pane their morning rays For dry Northwesters cold and clear, The East blows in its thin blue haze. And first the snowdrop's bells are seen, Then close against the sheltering wall The tulip's horn of dusky green, The peony's dark unfolding ball.
What with sucking honey and trying to open the door, he was nearly dated; and when it opened in the morning to let the sun see the tulip's heart, what would the sun have thought to find such a stupid thing lying there with wings too?" "But how do you have time to look after bees?" "I don't look after bees. I had this one to look after. It was hard work, though." "Hard work!
"Look out, Samson," cried Flambeau; "why, you've cut off the tulip's head." Father Brown stood ruefully contemplating the decapitated plant. "Mine does seem to be a rather kill or cure sort of watering," he admitted, scratching his head. "I suppose it's a pity I didn't find the spud. You should have seen me with the spud! Talking of tools, you've got that swordstick, Flambeau, you always carry?
Thus they ran on; there were no inner posts to mark the course, only the great opal standing in the centre of all formed the pivot of the race, and round and round it, a great way off, they ran. All at once a big thought came into Tulip's head; he waited not to count ten, but, before Green Slippers knew what he was after, he had reached the opal centre, and was circling it.
Some love the tulip's gaudier dyes, Where deepening blue with yellow vies, And gorgeous beauty glows; But happier he, whose bridal wreath, By love entwined, is found to breathe The sweetness of the rose.
Oh, here is that copy of verses I told you about. Intra Muros. The sunbeams, lost for half a year, Slant through my pane their morning rays For dry Northwesters cold and clear, The East blows in its thin blue haze. And first the snowdrop's bells are seen, Then close against the sheltering wall The tulip's horn of dusky green, The peony's dark unfolding ball.
Hardly was the thing said than done; all the children who had been Tulip's playmates, and Miller Dick with his broad thumbs, and the dairyman's wife, were every one of them out, and the old witch woman was nowhere to be seen.
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