She put her pretty red lips beneath it and blew it upwards.
Mrs.Croom's suspicions concerning Ephraim had produced in her a desire to reprove some one, but she refrained as yet.
Susannah having wafted the summer snowflake aloft, still sat, her young face tilted upward like the faces of saints in the holy pictures, her bright eyes fixed upon the feather now descending.

Ephraim looked with obvious pleasure.

Her head was framed for him by the window; a dark stiff evergreen and the summer sky gave a Raphaelite setting.
The feather dropped till it all but touched the tip of the girl's nose.
Then from the lips, puckered and rosy, came a small gust; the fragment of down ascended, but this time aslant.
"You didn't blow straight enough up," said Ephraim.
Susannah smiled to know that her pastime was observed.

The smile was a flash of pleasure that went through her being.

She ducked her laughing face farther forward to be under the feather.
Mrs.Croom shot one glance at Ephraim, eager and happy in his watching.
She did what nothing but the lovelight in her son's face could have caused her to do.