Then she began going slowly from flower to flower, laying her face against the cool, velvety purple of the pansies, touching the roses with her lips, and tilting the white lily-cups to look into their golden depths.
As she passed from one to another as lightly as a butterfly might have done, she began chanting in a happy undertone.
Ever since she had learned to talk she had a quaint little way of singing to herself.

All the names that pleased her fancy she strung together in a crooning melody of her own.
There was no special tune.

It sounded happy, although nearly always in a minor key.
"Oh, the jonquils an' the lilies!" she sang.

"All white an' gold an' yellow.

Oh, they're all a-smilin' at me, an' a-sayin' howdy! howdy!" She was so absorbed in her intense enjoyment that she forgot all about the old Colonel.