By whisking the joss-sticks around by
their floppy handles you can make all sorts of fiery circles. I made
two little ones for eyes, and Greg did a nose in the middle, and
Jerry twirled a curvy one underneath for a mouth that could be
either smiling or ferocious. A little way off you can't see the
people who do it at all, and it looks just like a great fiery face
with a changing, wobbly expression.
Then Greg did a fire dance with two sparklers. He dances rather
well,--not real one-steps and waltzes, but weird things he makes up
himself. This one lasted as long as the sparklers burned, and it was
quite gorgeous. After that we had a candle-light procession around
the garden, and the grown people said that the candles looked very
mysterious bobbing in and out between the trees. We felt more like
high priests than patriots, but it was very festive and wonderful,
and when we ended by having cakes and lime-juice on the porch at
half-past nine, everybody agreed that it had been a real celebration
and quite different.
In spite of being up so late the night before, Greg was the first
one down to breakfast next morning. Our postman always brings the
mail just before the end of breakfast, and we can hear him click the
gate as he comes in. This morning Jerry and Greg dashed for the mail
together, and Greg squeezed through where Jerry thought he couldn't
and got there first.
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