Lavender and Old Lace

"The hoof-beats of Arabian horses, with white-robed Bedouins flashing

their swords; all the glitter and splendour of war were woven into it.

Songs of victory, the rush of a cavalry charge, the faith of a dying

warrior, even the slow marches of defeat--it all went into the rug.

"Perhaps the Master Craftsman died, but the design was left, and willing

fingers toiled upon it, through the long years, each day putting new

beauty into it and new dreams. Then, one day, the final knot was tied,

by a Veiled Lady, who sighed softly in the pauses of her song, and

wondered at its surpassing loveliness." "And--" said Miss Ainslie,

gently.

"Some one who loved you brought it to you."

"Yes," she repeated, smiling, "some one who loved me. Tell me about

this," she pleaded, touching a vase of Cloisonne.

"It came from Japan," he said, "a strange world of people like those

painted on a fan. The streets are narrow and there are quaint houses on

either side. The little ladies flit about in gay attire, like so many

butterflies--they wear queer shoes on their dainty feet. They're as

sweet as their own cherry blossoms.

"The little man who made this vase, wore a blue tunic and had no robes

of state, because he was poor. He loved the daughter of a nobleman and

she loved him, too, though neither dared to say so. So he sat in front

of his house and worked on this vase. He made a model of clay, shaping

it with his fingers until it was perfect. Then a silver vase was cast

from it and over and over it he went, very carefully, making a design

with flat, silver wire. When he was satisfied with it, he filled it

in with enamel in wonderful colours, making even the spots on the

butterflies' wings like those he had seen in the fields. Outside the

design, he covered the vase with dark enamel, so the bright colours

would show.

"As he worked, the little lady he loved came and watched him sometimes

for a moment or two, and then he put a tiny bit of gold into the vase.

He put a flower into the design, like those she wore in her hair, and

then another, like the one she dropped at his feet one day, when no one

was looking.

"The artist put all his love into the vase, and he hoped that when it

was done, he could obtain a Court position. He was very patient with the

countless polishings, and one afternoon, when the air was sweet with the

odour of the cherry blossoms, the last touches were put upon it.

"It was so beautiful that he was commissioned to make some great vases

for the throne room, and then, with joy in his heart, he sought the hand

of the nobleman's daughter.