Chapter 9 No.9

THE QUEST FLOWER (Continued)

The next morning was rainy, and Jewel and her grandfather visited the stable instead of taking their canter.

"And what will you do this dismal day?" asked the broker of his daughter-in-law as they stood alone for a minute after breakfast, Jewel having run upstairs to get Anna Belle for the drive to the station.

"This happy day," she answered, lifting to him the radiant face that he was always mentally contrasting with Madge. "The rain will give me a chance to look at the many treasures you have here, books and pictures."

"H'm. You are musical, I know, for Jewel has the voice of a lark. Do you play the piano?"

Julia looked wistfully at the Steinway grand. "Ah, if I only could!" she returned.

Mr. Evringham cleared his throat. "Madam," he said, lowering his voice, "that child has a most amazing talent."

"Jewel's voice, do you mean?"

"She'll sing, I'm sure of it," he replied, "but I mean for music in general. Eloise is an accomplished pianist. She has one piece that Jewel especially enjoyed, the old Spring Song of Mendelssohn. Probably you know it."

Julia shook her head. "I doubt it. I've heard very little good piano playing."

"Well, madam, that child has picked out the melody of that piece by herself," the broker lowered his voice to still deeper impressiveness. "As soon as we return in the autumn, we will have her begin lessons."

Julia's eyes met his gratefully.

"A very remarkable talent. I am positive of it," he went on. "Jewel," for here the child entered the room, "play the Spring Song for your mother, will you?"

"Now? Zeke is out there, grandpa."

"Dick can stretch his legs a bit faster this morning. Play it."

So Jewel set Anna Belle on a brocaded chair and going to the piano, played the melody of the Spring Song. She could perform only a few measures, but there were no false notes in the little chromatic passages, and her grandfather's eyes sought Julia's in grave triumph.

"A very marvelous gift," he managed to say to her again under his breath, as Jewel at last ran ahead of him out to the porte cochère.

Julia's eyes grew dreamy as she watched the brougham drive off. How different was to be the future of her little girl from anything she had planned in her rosiest moments of hopefulness.

The more she saw of Mr. Evringham's absorbed attachment to the child, the more grateful she was for the manner in which he had guarded Jewel's simplicity, the self-restraint with which he had abstained from loading her with knickknacks or fine clothes. The child was not merely a pet with him. She was an individual, a character whose development he respected.

"God keep her good!" prayed the mother.

It was a charming place to continue the story, there in the large chintz chair by Mrs. Evringham's window. The raindrops pattered against the clear glass, the lawn grew greener, and the great trees beyond the gateway held their leaves up to the bath.

"Anna Belle's pond will overflow, I think," said Jewel, looking out the window musingly.

"And how good for the ferns," remarked her mother.

"Yes, I'd like to be there, now," said the child.

"Oh, I think it's much cosier here. I love to hear the rain, too, don't you?"

"Yes, I do, and we'll have the story now, won't we, mother?"

At this moment there was a knock at the door and Zeke appeared with an armful of birch wood.

"Mr. Evringham said it might be a little damp up here and I was to lay a fire."

"Oh, yes, yes!" exclaimed Jewel. "Mother, wouldn't you like to have a fire while we read?"

Mrs. Evringham assented and Zeke laid the sticks on the andirons and let Jewel touch the lighted match to the little twigs.

"I have the loveliest book, Zeke," she said, when the flames leaped up. "My mother made it for me, and you shall read it if you want to."

"Yes, if Zeke wants to," put in Mrs. Evringham, smiling, "but you'd better find out first if he does. This book was written for little girls with short braids."

"Oh, Zeke and I like a great many of the same things," responded Jewel earnestly.

"That's so, little kid," replied the young coachman, "and as long as you're going to stay here, I'll read anything you say."

"You see," explained Jewel, when he had gone out and closed the door softly, "Zeke said it made his nose tingle every time he thought of anybody else braiding Star's tail, so he's just as glad as anything that we're not going away."

The birch logs snapped merrily, and Anna Belle sat in Jewel's lap watching the leaping flame, while Mrs. Evringham leaned back in her easy chair. The reading had been interrupted yesterday by the arrival of the hour when Mrs. Evringham had engaged to take a drive with her father-in-law. Jewel accompanied them, riding Star, and it was great entertainment to her mother to watch the child's good management of the pretty pony who showed by many shakes of the head and other antics that it had not been explained to his satisfaction why Essex Maid was left out of this good time.

Jewel turned to her mother. "We're all ready now, aren't we? Do go on with the story. I told grandpa about it, driving to the station this morning, and what do you suppose he asked me?" The child drew in her chin. "He asked me if I thought Flossie was going to get well!"

Mrs. Evringham smiled. "Well, we'll see," she replied, opening the story-book. "Where were we?"

"Miss Fletcher had just gone into the house and Flossie had just said she was sinful. She wasn't to blame a bit!"

"Oh, yes, here it is," said Mrs. Evringham, and she began to read:-

* * *

As Hazel met Flossie's look, her heart swelled and she wished her mother were here to take care of this little girl who had fallen into such a sad mistake.

"I wish I knew how to tell you better, Flossie, about God being Love," she said; "but He is, and He didn't send you your trouble."

"Perhaps He didn't send it," returned Flossie, "but He thinks it's good for me to have it or else He'd let the doctors cure me. I've had the kindest doctors you ever heard of, and they know everything about people's backs."

"But God will cure you, Himself," said Hazel earnestly.

A strange smile flitted over the sick child's lips. "Oh, no, He won't. I asked Him every night for a year, and over and over all day; but I never ask Him now."

"Oh, Flossie, I know what's the truth, but I don't know how to tell about it very well; but everything about you that seems not to be the image and likeness of God is a lie; and He doesn't see lies, and so He doesn't know these mistakes you're thinking; but He does know the strong, well girl you really are, and He'll help you to know it, too, when you begin to think right."

The sincerity and earnestness in her visitor's tone brought a gleam of interest into Flossie's eyes.

"Just think of being well and running around here with me, and think that God wants you to!"

"Oh, do you believe He does?" returned Flossie doubtfully. "Mother says it will do my soul good for me to be sick, if I can't get well."

Hazel shook her head violently. "You know when Jesus was on earth? Well, he never told anybody it was better for them to be sick. He healed everybody, everybody that asked him, and he came to do the will of his Father; so God's will doesn't change, and it's just the same now."

There was a faint color in Flossie's cheeks. "If I was sure God wanted me to get well, why then I'd know I would some time."

"Of course He does; but you didn't know how to ask Him right."

"Do you?" asked Flossie.

Hazel nodded. "Yes; not so well as mother, but I do know a little, and if you want me to, I'll ask Him for you."

"Well, of course I do," returned Flossie, regarding her visitor with grave, wondering eyes.

In a minute Miss Fletcher, watching the children through a window, beheld something that puzzled her. She saw Hazel roll Flossie's chair back under the elm-tree, and saw her sit down on the grass beside it and cover her eyes with both hands.

"What game are they playing?" she asked herself; and she smiled, well pleased by the friendship that had begun. "I wish health was catching," she sighed. "Little Hazel's a picture. I wonder how long it'll be before she finds out who I am. I wonder what Richard's idea is in not telling her."

She moved about the house a few minutes, and then returned, curiously, to the window. To her surprise matters were exactly as she saw them last. Flossie was, holding both dolls in the wheeled chair, and Hazel was sitting under the tree, her hands over her eyes.

A wave of amazement and amusement swept over Miss Fletcher, and she struck her hands together noiselessly. "I do believe in my heart," she exclaimed, "that Hazel Wright is giving Flossie one of those absent treatments they tell about! Well, if I ever in all my born days!"

There was no more work for Miss Fletcher after this, but a restless moving about the room until she saw Hazel bound up from the ground. Then she hurried out of the house and walked over to the tree. Hazel skipped to meet her, her face all alight. "Oh, Miss Fletcher, Flossie wants to be healed by Christian Science. If my mother was only here she could turn to all the places in the Bible where it tells about God being Love and healing sickness."

Miss Fletcher noted the new expression in the invalid's usually listless face, and the new light in her eyes.

"I'll take my Bible," she answered, "and a concordance. I'll bring them right now. You children go on playing and I'll find all the references I can, and Flossie and I will read them after you've gone."

Miss Fletcher brought her books out under the tree, and with pencil and paper made her notes while the children played with their dolls.

"Let's have them both your children, Flossie," said Hazel.

"Oh, yes," replied Flossie, "and they'll both be sick, and you be the doctor and come and feel their pulses. Aunt Hazel has my doll's little medicine bottles in the house. She'll tell you where they are."

Hazel paused. "Let's not play that," she returned, "because-it isn't fun to be sick and-you're going to be all done with sickness."

"All right," returned Flossie; but it had been her principal play with her doll, Bernice, who had recovered from such a catalogue of ills that it reflected great credit on her medical man.

"I'll be the maid," said Hazel, "and you give me the directions and I'll take the children to drive and to dancing-school and everywhere you tell me."

"And when they're naughty," returned Flossie, "you bring them to me to spank, because I can't let my servants punish my children."

Hazel paused again. "Let's play you're a Christian Scientist," she said, "and you have a Christian Science maid, then there won't be any spanking; because if error creeps in, you'll know how to handle it in mind."

"Oh!" returned Flossie blankly.

But Hazel was fertile in ideas, and the play proceeded with spirit, owing to the lightning speed with which the maid changed to a coachman, and thence to a market-man or a gardener, according to the demands of the situation.

Miss Fletcher, her spectacles well down on her nose, industriously searched out her references and made record of them, her eyes roving often to the white face that was fuller of interest than she had ever seen it.

When four o'clock came, she went back to the house and returned with Flossie's lap table, which she leaned against the tree trunk. This afternoon lunch for the invalid was always accomplished with much coaxing on Miss Fletcher's part, and great reluctance on Flossie's. The little girl took no notice now of what was coming. She was too much engrossed in Hazel's efforts to induce Miss Fletcher's maltese cat to allow Bernice to take a ride on his back.

But when the hostess returned from the house the second time, Hazel gave an exclamation. Miss Fletcher was carrying a tray, and upon it was laid out a large doll's tea-set. It was of white china with gold bands, and when Flossie saw Hazel's admiration, she exclaimed too.

"This was my tea-set when I was a little girl," said Miss Fletcher, "and I was always very choice of it. Twenty years ago I had a niece your age, Hazel, who used to think it was the best fun in the world to come to aunt Hazel's and have lunch off her doll's tea-set. I used to tell her I was going to give it to her little girl if she ever had one."

Both children exclaimed admiringly over the quaint shape of the bowl and pitchers, as Miss Fletcher deposited the tray on her sewing-table.

"When I was a child we didn't smash up handsome toys the way children do nowadays. They weren't so easy to get."

"And didn't your niece ever have a little girl?" asked Flossie, beginning to think that in such a case perhaps these dear dishes might come to be her own.

"Yes, she did," replied Miss Fletcher kindly, and as she looked at the guest's interested little face her eyes were thoughtful. "I shall give them to her some day."

"Has she ever seen them?" asked Hazel.

"Once. I thought you children must be hungry after your games, and you'd like a little lunch."

This idea was so pleasing to Hazel that Flossie caught her enthusiasm.

"You'll be the mistress and pour, Flossie, and I'll be the waitress," she said. "Won't it be the most fun! I suppose, ma'am, you'll like to have the children come to the table?" she added, with sudden respectfulness of tone.

"Yes," returned Flossie, with elegant languor. "I think it teaches them good manners."

And then the waitress forgot herself so far as to hop up and down; for Miss Fletcher, who had returned to the house, now reappeared bearing a tray of eatables and drinkables.

What a good time the children had, with the sewing-table for a sideboard, and the lap-table fixed firmly across Flossie's chair.

"Are you sure you aren't getting too tired, dear?" asked Miss Fletcher of her invalid, doubtfully. "Wouldn't you rather the waitress poured?"

But Flossie declared she was feeling well, and Hazel looked up eagerly into Miss Fletcher's eyes and said, "You know she can't get too tired unless we're doing wrong."

"Oh, indeed!" returned the hostess dryly. "Then there's nothing to fear, for she's doing the rightest kind of right."

When the table was set forth, two small plates heaped high with bread-and-butter sandwiches, a coffee-pot and milk-pitcher of beaten egg and milk, a tea-pot of grape juice, one dish of nuts and another of jelly, the waitress's eyes spoke so eloquently that Flossie mercifully dismissed her on the spot, and invited a lady of her acquaintance to the feast, who immediately drew up a chair with eager alacrity.

Miss Fletcher seated herself again and looked on with the utmost satisfaction, while the children laughed and ate, and when the sandwich plates and coffee-pot and tea-pot and milk-pitcher were all emptied, she replenished them from the well-furnished sideboard.

"My, I wish I was aunt Hazel's real little niece!" exclaimed Flossie, enchanted with pouring from the delightful china.

"So do I wish I was," said Hazel, looking around at her hostess with a smile that was returned.

When Hazel sat down to supper at home that evening, she had plenty to tell of the delightful afternoon, which made Mr. Badger and Hannah open their eyes to the widest, although she did not suspect how she was astonishing them.

"I tell you," she added, in describing the luncheon, "we were careful not to break that little girl's dishes. Oh, I wish you could see them. They're the most be-autiful you ever saw. They're so big-big enough for a child's real ones that she could use herself."

"I judge you did use them," said uncle Dick.

"Well, I guess we did! Miss Fletcher-she wants me to call her aunt Hazel, uncle Dick!" The child looked up to observe the effect of this.

He nodded. "Do it, then. Perhaps she'll forget and give you the dishes."

Hazel laughed. "Well, anyway, she said Flossie'd eaten as much as she usually did in two whole days. Isn't it beautiful that she's going to get well?"

"I wouldn't talk to her too much about it," returned Mr. Badger. "It would be cruel to disappoint her."

This sort of response was new to Hazel. She gazed at her uncle a minute. "That's error," she said at last. "God doesn't disappoint people. They'll get some grown-up Scientist, but until they do, I'll declare the truth for Flossie every day. She'll get well. You'll see.

"I hope so," returned Mr. Badger quietly.

Old Hannah gave her employer a wink over the child's head. "You might ask them to come here by your garden and have lunch some day, Hazel. I'll fix things up real nice for you, even if we haven't got any baby dishes."

"I'd love to," returned Hazel, "and I expect they'd love to come. To-morrow I'm going to take the lesson over and read it with them, and I'm going to read them the 'Quest Flower,' too. It's a story that aunt Hazel will just love. I think she has one in her yard."

"Well, Mr. Richard," said Hannah, after their little visitor had gone to bed, "I see the end of one family feud."

Mr. Badger smiled. "When Miss Fletcher consents to take lunch in my yard, I shall see it, too," he replied.

The next day was pleasant, also, and when Hazel appeared outside her aunt's fence, Flossie was sitting under the tree and waved a hand to her. The white face looked pleased and almost eager, and Miss Fletcher called:-

"Come along, Hazel. I guess Flossie got just tired enough yesterday. She slept last night the best she has since she came."

"Yes," added the little invalid, smiling as her new friend drew near, "the night seemed about five minutes long."

"That's the way it does to me," returned Hazel. She had her doll and some books in her arms, and Miss Fletcher took the latter from her.

"H'm, h'm," she murmured, as she looked over the titles. "You have something about Christian Science here."

"Yes, I thought I'd read to-day's lesson to Flossie before I treated her, and you'd let us take your Bible."

"I certainly will. I can tell you, Hazel, Flossie and I were surprised at the number of good verses and promises I read to her last evening. Anybody ought to sleep well after them."

Hazel looked glad, and Miss Fletcher let her run into the house to bring the Bible, for it was on the hall table in plain sight.

While she was gone the hostess smoothed Flossie's hair. "I can tell you, my dear child, that reading all those verses to you last night made me feel that we don't any of us live up to our lights very well. 'Tisn't always a question of sick bodies, Flossie."

Hazel came bounding back to the elm-tree, and sitting down near the wheeled chair, opened the Bible and two of the books she had brought, and proceeded to read the lesson. Had she been a few years older, she would not have attempted this without a word of explanation to two people to whom many of the terms of her religion were strange, but no doubts assailed her. The little white girl in the wheeled chair was going to get out of it and run around and be happy-that was all Hazel knew, and she proceeded in the only way she knew of to bring it about.

Miss Fletcher's thin lips parted as she listened to the sentences that the child read. She understood scarcely more than Flossie of what they were hearing, excepting the Bible verses, and these did not seem to bear on the case. It was Hazel's perfectly unhesitating certainty of manner and voice which most impressed her, and when the child had finished she continued to stare at her unconsciously.

"Now," said Hazel, returning her look, "I guess I'd better treat her before we begin to play."

Her hostess started. "Oh!" she ejaculated, "then I suppose you'd rather be alone."

"Yes, it's easier," returned the little girl.

Miss Fletcher, feeling rather embarrassed, gathered up her sewing and moved off to the house.

"If I ever in all my born days!" she thought again. "What would Flossie's mother say! Well, that dear little girl's prayers can't do any harm, and if she isn't a smart young one I never saw one. She's Fletcher clear through. I'd like to know what Richard Badger thinks of her. If she'd give him a few absent treatments it might do him some good."

Miss Fletcher's lips took their old grim line as she added this reflection, but she was not altogether comfortable. Her nephew's action in withholding from Hazel the fact that it was her aunt whom she was visiting daily could scarcely have other than a kindly motive; and that long list of Bible references which she had read to Flossie last evening had stirred her strangely. There was one, "He that loveth not, knoweth not God, for God is love," which had followed her to bed and occupied her thoughts for some time.

Now she went actively to work preparing the luncheon which she intended serving to the children later.

"And I'd better fix enough for two laboring men," she thought, smiling.

Later, when she went back under the tree, her little guest skipped up to her. "Oh, aunt Hazel," she said, and the address softened the hostess's eyes, "won't you and Flossie come to-morrow afternoon if it's pleasant, and have lunch beside my garden?"

Miss Fletcher's face changed. This was a contingency that had not occurred to her.

"Oh, do say yes," persisted the child. "I want you to see my flowers, and Flossie says she'd love to. I'll come up and wheel her down there."

"Flossie can go some day, yes," replied aunt Hazel reluctantly; "but I don't visit much. I'm set in my ways."

"Hannah, uncle Dick's housekeeper, suggested it herself," pursued Hazel, thinking that perhaps her own invitation was not sufficient, "and I know uncle Dick would be glad. You said," with sudden remembrance, "that you used to know him."

Miss Fletcher's lips were their grimmest. "I've spanked him many a time," she replied deliberately.

"Spanked him!" repeated the child, staring in still amazement.

The grim lips crept into a grimmer smile. "Not very hard; not hard enough, I've thought a good many times since."

Hazel recovered her breath. "You knew him when he was little?"

"I certainly did. No, child, don't ask me to go out of my tracks. You come here all you will, and if you'll be very careful you can wheel Flossie up to your garden some day. Come, now, are you going to read us that story? I see you brought it."

"Yes, I brought it," replied Hazel, in a rather subdued voice. She saw that there was some trouble between this kind, new friend and her dear uncle Dick, and the discovery astonished her. How could grown-up people not forgive one another?

Miss Fletcher seated herself again with her sewing, and Hazel took the little white book and sat down close by the wheeled chair where Flossie was holding both the dolls.

"Do you like stories?" she asked.

"Yes, when they're not interesting," returned Flossie; "but when mother brings a book and says it's very interesting, I know I shan't like it."

Hazel laughed. "Well, hear this," she said, and began to read:-

* * *

Once there was a very rich man whose garden was his chief pride and joy. In all the country around, people knew about this wonderful garden, and many came from miles away to look at the rare trees and shrubs, and the beautiful vistas through which one could gain glimpses of blue water where idle swans floated and added their snowy beauty to the scene. But loveliest of all were the rare flowers, blossoming profusely and rejoicing every beholder.

It was the ambition of the man's life to have the most beautiful garden in the world; and so many strangers as well as friends told him that it was so that he came to believe it and to be certain that no beauty could be added to his enchanting grounds.

One evening, as he was strolling about the avenues, he strayed near the wall and suddenly became aware of a fragrance so sweet and strange that he started and looked about him to find its source. Becoming more and more interested each moment, as he could find only such blossoms as were familiar to him, he at last perceived that the wonderful perfume floated in from the public way which ran just without the wall.

Instantly calling a servant he dispatched him to discover what might be the explanation of this delightful mystery.

The servant sped and found a youth bearing a jar containing a plant crowned with a wondrous pure white flower which sent forth this sweetness.

The servant endeavored to bring the bearer to his master, but the youth steadily refused; saying that, the plant being now in perfection, he was carrying it to the King, for in his possession it would never fade.

The servant returning with this news, the owner of the garden hastened, himself, and overtook the young man. When his eyes beheld the wondrous plant, he demanded it at any price.

"I cannot part with it to you," returned the youth, "but do you not know that at the Public Garden a bulb of this flower is free to all?"

"I never heard of it," replied the man, with excitement, "but to grow it must be difficult. Promise me to return and tend it for me until I possess a plant as beautiful as yours."

"That would be useless," returned the youth, "for every man must tend his own; and as for me, the King will send me on a quest when He has received this flower, and I shall not return this way."

His face was radiant as he proceeded on his road, and the rich man, filled with an exceeding longing, hastened to the Public Garden and made known his desire. He was given a bulb, and was told that the King provided it, but that when the plant was in flower it must be carried to Him.

The man agreed, and returning to his house, rejoicing, caused the bulb to be planted in a beautiful spot set apart for its reception.

But, strangely, as time went on, his gardeners could not make this plant grow. The man sent out for experts, men with the greatest wisdom concerning the ways of flowers, but still the bulb rested passive. The man offered rewards, but in vain. His garden was still famous and praised for its beauty far and near; but it pleased him no longer. His heart ached with longing for the one perfect flower.

One night he lay awake, mourning and restless, until he could bear it no more. He rose, the only waking figure in the sleeping castle, and went out upon a balcony. A flood of moonlight was turning his garden to silver, and suddenly a nightingale's sobbing song pulsed upon the air and filled his heart to bursting.

Wrapping his mantle about him, he descended a winding stair and walked to where, in the centre of the garden, reposed his buried hope. No one was by to witness the breaking down of his pride. He knelt, and swift tears fell upon the earth and moistened it.

What wonder was this? He brushed away the blinding drops, the better to see, for a little green shoot appeared from the brown earth, and, with a leap of the heart, he perceived that his flower had begun to grow.

Every succeeding night, while all in the castle were sleeping, he descended to the garden and tended the plant.

Steadily it grew, and finally the bud appeared, and one fair day it burst into blossom and filled the whole garden with its perfume.

The thought of parting with this treasure tugged at the man's very heartstrings. "The King has many, how many, who can tell! Must I give up mine to Him? Not yet. Not quite yet!"

So he put off carrying away the perfect flower from one day to the next, till at last it fell and was no more worthy.

Ah, then what sadness possessed the man's soul! He vowed that he would never rest until he had brought another plant to perfection and given it to the King; for he realized, at last, that only by giving it, could its loveliness become perennial. Yet he mourned his perfect flower, for it seemed to him no other would ever possess such beauty.

So he set forth again to the Public Garden, but there a great shock awaited him. He found that no second bulb could be vouchsafed to any one. Very sadly he retraced his steps and carefully covered the precious bulb, hoping that when the season of storm and frost was past, there might come to it renewed life.

As soon as the spring began to spread green loveliness again across the landscape, the man turned, with a full heart, to the care and nurture of his hope. The winter of waiting had taught him many a lesson.

He tended the plant now with his own hands, in the light of day and in the sight of all men. Long he cherished it, and steadily it grew, and the man's thought grew with it. Finally the bud appeared, increasing and beautifying daily, until, one morning, a divine fragrance spread beyond the farthest limits of that garden, for the flower had bloomed, spotless, fit for a holy gift; and the man looked upon it humbly and not as his own; but rejoiced in the day of its perfection that he might leave all else behind him, and, carrying it to the King, lay it at His feet and receive His bidding; and so go forth upon his joyous quest.

* * *

Hazel closed the book. Flossie was watching her attentively. Miss Fletcher had laid down her sewing and was wiping her spectacles.

"Did you like it?" asked Hazel.

"Yes," replied Flossie. "I wish I knew what that flower was."

"Mother says the blossom is consecration," replied Hazel. "I forget what she said the bulb was. What do you think it was, aunt Hazel?"

"Humility, perhaps," replied Miss Fletcher.

"Yes, that's just what she said! I remember now. Oh, let's go and look at yours and see how the bud is to-day." Hazel sprang up from the grass and carefully pushed Flossie's chair to the flower-bed.

"Oh, aunt Hazel, it's nearly out," she cried, and Miss Fletcher, who had remained behind still polishing her spectacles with hands that were not very steady, felt a little frightened leap of the heart. She wished the Quest Flower would be slower.

The afternoon was as happy a one to the children as that of the day before. They greatly enjoyed the dainty lunch from the little tea-set. They had cocoa to-day instead of the beaten egg and milk; then, just before Hazel went home, Miss Fletcher let her water the garden with a fascinating sprinkler that whirled and was always just about to deluge either the one who managed it or her companions.

In the child's little hands it was a dangerous weapon, but Miss Fletcher very kindly and patiently helped her to use it, for she saw the pleasure she was bestowing.

That night Hazel had a still more joyous tale to tell of her happy day; and uncle Dick went out doors with her after supper and watched her water her own garden bed and listened to her chatter with much satisfaction.

"So Miss Fletcher doesn't care to come and lunch in my yard," he remarked.

"No," returned Hazel, pausing and regarding him. "She says she used to know you well enough to spank you, too."

Mr. Badger laughed. "She certainly did."

"Then error must have crept in," said the little girl, "that she doesn't know you now."

"I used to think it had, when she got after me."

The child observed his laughing face wistfully, "She didn't know how to handle it in mind, did she?"

"Not much. A slipper was good enough for her."

"Well, I don't see what's the matter," said Hazel.

"'Tisn't necessary, little one. You go on having a good time. Everything will come out all right some day."

As Mr. Badger spoke he little knew what activity was taking place in his aunt's thought. Her heart had been touched by the surprising arrival and sympathy of her namesake, and her conscience had been awakened by the array of golden words from the Bible which she had not studied much during late bitter years. The story of the Quest Flower, falling upon her softened heart, seemed to hold for her a special meaning.

In the late twilight that evening she stood alone in her garden, and the opening chalice of the perfect lily shone up at her through the dusk. "Only a couple of days, at most," she murmured, "not more than a couple of days-and humility was the root!"

When it rained the following morning, Flossie looked out the window rather disconsolately; but after dinner her face brightened, for she saw Hazel coming up the street under an umbrella. Tightly held in one arm were Ella and a bundle of books and doll's clothes. Miss Fletcher welcomed the guest gladly, and, after disposing of her umbrella, left the children together and took her sewing upstairs where she sat at work by a window, frowning and smiling by turns at her own thoughts.

Occasionally she looked down furtively at her garden, where in plain view the quest flower drank in the warm rain and opened-opened!

By this time Flossie and Hazel were great friends, and the expression of the former's face had changed even in three days, until one would forget to call her an afflicted child.

They had the lesson and the treatment this afternoon, and then their plays, and when lunch time came the appetites of the pair did not seem to have been injured by their confinement to the house.

When the time came for Hazel to go it had ceased raining, and Miss Fletcher went with her to the gate.

"Oh, oh, aunt Hazel-see the quest flower!" exclaimed the child.

True, a lily, larger, fairer than all the rest, reared itself in stately purity in the centre of the bed.

Miss Fletcher turned and looked at it with startled eyes and pressed her hand to her heart. "Why can't the thing give a body time to make up her mind!" she murmured.

"Oh, to-morrow, to-morrow, aunt Hazel, the sun will come out, and I know just how that lily will look. It will be fit to take to the King!"

Miss Fletcher passed her arm around the child's shoulders. "I want you to stay to supper with us to-morrow night, dear. Ask your uncle if you may."

"Thank you, I'd love to," returned the child, and was skipping off.

"Wait a minute." Miss Fletcher stooped and with her scissors cut a moss rose so full of sweetness that as she handed it to her guest, Hazel hugged her.

The following day was fresh and bright. Flossie's best pink gown and hair ribbons made her look like a rose, herself, to Hazel, as the little girl, very fine in a white frock and ribbons, came skipping up the street. Miss Fletcher stood watching them as her niece ran toward the wheeled chair. The lustre in Flossie's eyes made her heart glad; but the visitor stopped short in the midst of the garden and clasped her hands.

"Oh, aunt Hazel!" she cried, "the quest flower!"

Miss Fletcher nodded and slowly drew near. The stately lily looked like a queen among her subjects.

"Yes, it is to-day," she said softly, "to-day."

She could not settle to her sewing, but, leaving the children together for their work and play, walked up and down the garden paths. Later she went into the house and upstairs and put on her best black silk dress. An unusual color came into her cheeks while she dressed. "The bulb was humility," she murmured over and over, under her breath.

The afternoon was drawing to a close when Miss Fletcher at last moved out of doors and to the elm-tree. "I didn't bring you any lunch to-day," she said to the children, "because I want you to be hungry for a good supper."

"Can we have the dishes just the same?" asked Flossie.

"The owner is going to have them to-night," replied Miss Fletcher, and both the little girls regarded her flushed face with eager curiosity.

"Why, have you asked her?" they cried together.

"Yes."

"Does she know she's going to have the tea-set?"

"No."

"Oh, what fun!" exclaimed Flossie. "I didn't know she was in town."

"Yes, she is in town." Miss Fletcher turned to Hazel and put her hand on the child's shoulder. "We must do everything we can to celebrate taking the flower to the King."

Only then the children noticed that aunt Hazel had her bonnet on.

"Oh," cried the child, bewildered, "are you going to do it?"

Miss Fletcher met her radiant eyes thoughtfully. "If I should take the flower of consecration to the King, Hazel, I know what would be the first errand He would give me to do. I am going to do it now. Go on playing. I shan't be gone long."

She moved away down the garden path and out of the gate.

"What do you suppose it is?" asked Flossie.

"I don't know," returned Hazel simply. "Something right;" and then they took up their dolls again.

Miss Fletcher did not return very soon. In fact, nearly an hour had slipped away before she came up the street, and then a man was with her. As they entered the gate Hazel looked up.

"Uncle Dick, uncle Dick!" she cried gladly, jumping up and running to meet him. He and Miss Fletcher both looked very happy, as they all moved over to Flossie's chair. Mr. Badger's kind eyes looked down into hers and he carried her into the house in his strong arms. Hazel followed, rolling the chair and having many happy thoughts; but she did not understand even a little of the situation until they all went into the dining-room and Flossie was carefully seated in the place the hostess indicated.

The white and gold tea-set was not in front of Flossie this time, but grouped about another place. Hazel's quick eyes noted that there were four seats, but before she had time to speak of the expected child-happy owner of the tea-set-uncle Dick spoke:-

"Where do I go, aunt Hazel?"

The child's eyes widened at such familiarity. "Why, uncle Dick!" she ejaculated.

He and the hostess both regarded her, smiling.

"She is my aunt," he said; and then he lifted Hazel into the chair before the pretty china. "I believe these are your dishes," he added.

The child leaned back in her chair and looked from one to another. Slowly, slowly, she understood. That was the aunt Hazel who gave her the silver spoon. It had been aunt Hazel all the time! She suddenly jumped down from her chair, and, running to Miss Fletcher, hugged her without a word.

Aunt Hazel embraced her very tenderly. "Yes, my lamb," she whispered, "error crept in, but it has crept out again, I hope forever;" and through the wide-open windows came the perfume of the quest flower: pure, strong, beautiful,-radiantly white in the evening glow.

* * *

Before Hazel went back to Boston, Flossie's mother came to Miss Fletcher's, and the change for the better in her little daughter filled her with wonder and joy. With new hope she followed the line of treatment suggested by a little girl, and by the time another summer came around, two happy children played again in aunt Hazel's garden, both as free as the sweet air and sunshine, for Divine Love had made Flossie "every whit whole."

* * *