|• Main||• Contacts|
was ordered especially in honour of your coming."
Rose looked with all her eyes, and saw the spark grow into the
likeness of a golden vase, then green leaves came out, and then a
crimson flower glowing on the darkness with a splendid lustre.
"Is it a rose, uncle?" she asked, clasping her hands with delight as
she recognised the handsome flower.
"Of course it is! Look again, and guess what those are," answered
Uncle Mac, chuckling and enjoying it all like a boy.
A wreath of what looked at first like purple brooms appeared
below the vase, but Rose guessed what they were meant for, and
stood straight up, holding by his shoulder, and crying excitedly
"Thistles, uncle, Scotch thistles! There are seven of them one for
each boy! Oh, what a joke!" and she laughed so that she plumped
into the bottom of the boat and stayed there till the brilliant
spectacle was quite gone.
"That was rather a neat thing, I flatter myself," said Uncle Mac, in
high glee at the success of his illumination. "Now, shall I leave you
on the Island or take you home again, my good little girl?" he
added, lifting her up with such a tone of approbation in his voice
that Rose kissed him on the spot.
"Home, please uncle; and I thank you very very much for the
beautiful firework you got up for me. I'm so glad I saw it; and I
know I shall dream about it," answered Rose steadily, though a
wistful glance went toward the Island, now so near that she could
smell powder and see shadowy figures flitting about.
Home they went; and Rose fell asleep saying to herself, "It was
Page 8 from 9: Back 1 2 3 4 5 6 7  9 Forward