Her passion for that work grew wonderfully, and might be accounted for by the fascination of perfect success; for her coronets and garlands and bouquets and baskets were arranged with so much lightness and elegance, and the different-colored shells were so tastefully combined, that they looked less like manufactured articles than like flowers that grew in the gardens of the Nereids.
Tulee wondered why her vivacious little pet had all of a sudden become so sedentary in her habits,--why she never took her customary rambles except when Mr.Fitzgerald was gone, and even then never without her sister.

The conjecture she formed was not very far amiss, for Chloe's gossip had made her better acquainted with the character of her master than were the other inmates of the cottage; but the extraordinary industry was a mystery to her.

One evening, when she found Floracita alone in her room at dusk, leaning her head on her hand and gazing out of the window dreamily, she put her hand on the silky head and said, "Is my little one homesick ?" "I have no home to be sick for," she replied, sadly.
"Is she lovesick then ?" "I have no lover," she replied, in the same desponding tone.
"What is it, then, my pet?
Tell Tulee." "I wish I could go to Madame Guirlande," responded Flora.

"She was so kind to us in our first troubles." "It would do you good to make her a visit," said Tulee, "and I should think you might manage to do it somehow." "No.

Gerald said, a good while ago, that it would be dangerous for us ever to go to New Orleans." "Does he expect to keep you here always ?" asked Tulee.