Silvette nodded and continued playing an air from "Armide"; and they waited for her a moment, then went out into the hallway and up to the roof.
"The garden of a thousand delights!" she said with a sweep of her hand and a curtsey. "The Japanese fairy, Japonette, welcomes the true prophet of her frivolity."
He looked around at the flowers in pots—geraniums, verbenas, fuchsias, heliotrope—homely, old-fashioned blossoms.
"I bought them from a peddler; I stopped his wagon in the street and made him carry them up here. They only cost two dollars; and I was economical at the market," she explained.
He glanced up at the awning gay with yellow and white stripes.
"Macy's," she admitted guiltily; "I'll starve you at dinner to-night to pay for it."
He looked at her rather queerly, she thought.
"There are things I'd starve for—and people."
"And awnings, cousin?"
"Yours."