Just then Phyllis came running back from the kitchen garden,
and without looking round, or perceiving Claude, she took up the
flower-pot and released the captive, which, unconscious of its peril,
rested on a blade of grass, vibrating its gauzy wings and rejoicing
in the restored sunbeams.
'Fly away, fly away, you pretty creature,' said Phyllis; 'make haste,
or Maurice will come and catch you again. I wish I had not given you
such a fright. I thought you would have been killed, and a pin stuck
all through that pretty blue and black body of yours. Oh! that would
be dreadful. Make haste and go away! I would not have caught you,
you beautiful thing, if I had known what he wanted to do. I thought
he only wanted to look at your beautiful body, like a little bit of
the sky come down to look at the flowers, and your delicate wings,
and great shining eyes. Oh! I am very glad God made you so
beautiful. Oh! there is Maurice coming. I must blow upon you to
make you go. Oh, that is right--up quite high in the air--quite
safe,' and she clapped her hands as the dragon-fly rose in the air,
and disappeared behind the laurels, just as Maurice and Reginald
emerged from the shrubbery, the former with a bottle in his hand.
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