could:

"While our rosy fillets shed
Blushes o'er each fervid head,
With many a cup and many a smile
The festal moments we beguile."

"Some of my saints here were people of one idea, and though they
were not very successful from a worldly point of view while alive,
they were loved and canonized when dead," said Rose, who had
been turning over a pile of photographs on the table and just then
found her favorite, St. Francis, among them.

"This is more to my taste. Those worn-out, cadaverous fellows
give me the blues, but here's a gentlemanly saint who takes things
easy and does good as he goes along without howling over his own
sins or making other people miserable by telling them of theirs."
And Charlie laid a handsome St. Martin beside the brown-frocked
monk.

Rose looked at both and understood why her cousin preferred the
soldierly figure with the sword to the ascetic with his crucifix. One
was riding bravely through the world in purple and fine linen, with
horse and hound and squires at his back; and the other was in a
lazar-house, praying over the dead and dying. The contrast was a
strong one, and the girl's eyes lingered longest on the knight,
though she said thoughtfully, "Yours is certainly the pleasantest
and yet I never heard of any good deed he did, except divide his
cloak with a beggar, while St. Francis gave himself to charity just
when life was most tempting and spent years working for God