Deb had before her a parade of morning-glories, purple and white, pink and blue, while Miranda sat in a ring of marigolds and red columbines. Each was slowly swaying to and fro, murmuring to herself, and manipulating with small, darting fingers her rainbow throng of ladies. Rand, unseen, watched the manoeuvres for a while, then coughed to let them know he was there, and presently sat down upon a root of cedar, and gave Deb his opinion of the flower people. Children and he were always at their ease together.
"Hollyhocks make the finest ladies," he announced gravely. "Little Miss Randolph puts snapdragon caps upon them and gives them scarfs of ribbon grass."
"Hollyhocks are not in bloom," said Deb. "I use snapdragon for caps, too.—Now she has on a red and gold cap. This is a currant-leaf shawl."
"Do you name them?" asked Rand, poising a columbine upon the back of his hand.
"Of course," answered Deb. "All people have names. That is Sapphira."
Miranda advanced a flourishing zinnia. "Dishyer Miss Keren-Happuch—Marse Job's daughter."
Deb regarded with shining eyes a pale blue morning-glory with a little cap of white. "This is Ruth—I love her! The dark one is Hagar—she was dark, you know—and those two are Rachel and Leah."
"Ol' Miss Babylon!" said Miranda succinctly, and put forth a many-petalled red lady.
"Babylon, Babylon,
Red an' sinnin' Babylon,
Wash her han's in Jordan flood,
Still she's sinnin' Babylon!"
"And, these three?" asked Rand.