The daisies looked one in the face, but the violets did not, because they had morbidly bad manners.

Still of course manners are very small change and count for very little; the violet, being an artist, is entitled to any manners it likes, while the daisy has no temperament whatever, and no excuse for eccentricity.
Grasshoppers tatted industriously and impartially among the daisies and the violets.
Here outside the forest there was weather again, and the weather was more promising than generous.

It continued to promise all day without exactly explaining what its promise was, and without achieving any special fulfilment.

Fine silver lines of sunlight were ruled at a steep angle across a grey slate view.
At the gate of Higgins Farm, Sarah Brown was a little disconcerted to find a small dragon.

It was coiled round a tree beside the clipped box archway.