She was a gentle, lovely child, free from sin and pangs of earthly sorrow, yet feeling to her inmost being the tenderest love for all things.
“Good-morning,” she greeted, and held her face up for the kiss which she evidently thought so much of.
“Good-morning. Are these your friends?”
“Yes. We have come to dance for you. Every morning in the early sunlight we do the same. We call it the ‘Butterfly’s Dance’; I sing and they make the music with their wings.”
“Where did they come from?” I asked, for they were brilliant, lovely creatures, larger than ordinary, and with colours clear as light.
“Well, they came from earth for the most part. They had pins stuck through them by people who wanted to find out what they were like, and some were caught, and crushed, or starved by school boys and girls. When they died they came to us, and now they’re happy.”
The dance began. And the singing and the music and the dancing were infectious. I began to whistle, and continued from sheer light-heartedness. When it ended the butterflies flew about across the gardens seeking their breakfast from the flowers and golden fruits, and she and I together walked towards the house.
We were met at the door by Virginius.
“This afternoon we are going to the city. Mother says you may come, Sunbeam, if you care to.”
“Is she going?”