The red plant — A Reader’s Guide

III. THE LITTLE BIRD THAT CARRIED THE MATTER

IV. THE EFFECT OF A BAD NAME

"OH, what lovely flowers!" exclaimed Florry, stopping to look at a group of house plants which were standing on the lawn. There were camellias, geraniums, heaths, and various plants noted for beautiful blossoms or ornamental foliage. They were all in the best order, for Mrs. Hausen kept an excellent gardener; and little Flora, who loved flowers as well as the heathen goddess for whom she was named, could hardly tear herself away from them. Her mother had sent her to Mrs. Hausen's to borrow a pattern, and Florry knew that she was in a hurry for it, yet she stood looking at the flowers for full five minutes. Then she seemed to recollect herself, sighed deeply, and walked on towards the house with a very sad, not to say discontented, face.

"I don't see any sense in it," she was saying to herself. "My father and mother are just as good people as Mr. and Mrs. Hausen; and I am sure I am quite as good a girl as Emma Hausen is: I am better than she is, because I always learn my lessons, and never whisper in church or in school; and Emma does both. I saw her whisper in church last Sunday. And yet they have this fine place, and a greenhouse and carriage, and everything; and we must just live in a poky little place, where we can't have a single flower. It is too bad!"

Mr. Hausen's was indeed a beautiful place. There was a wide lawn, always shaved and watered till it was as smooth as velvet; and this lawn was planted with rare shrubs, and variegated with beds of brilliant verbenas, geraniums, and other flowers, while here and there, just where they looked prettiest, were garden seats, and vases and stands filled with rare plants or overrun with beautiful vines. The house itself was a very fine one, and from it there was a view of the lake, and the green fields and pastures of Mr. Hausen's great farm.

It was quite a walk from the gate to the house; but Flora reached it at last, and having rung the bell, she stood in the stone porch, looking out over the lake and watching the steamer which was just coming up.

"It is too bad," she said to herself; "they have everything, and we have nothing."

Mrs. Hausen was not at home, but she had left the patterns rolled up and ready for Mrs. Lester, if she should send for them; for she was a very thoughtful woman, and never forgot a promise.

"You are Mrs. Lester's little girl, I suppose," said the woman who handed her the patterns.

"Yes, ma'am," answered Flora.

"Well, here are your patterns all ready, you see. You can walk around and look at the flowers, if you like; but don't touch anything."

"Thank you, ma'am," said Flora, but in her heart she thought, "She had no business to say that to me. Just as if I would touch anything: as if I were a thief."

Florry looked at one flower-bed and then at another, till she came to a stand which was placed, as it seemed, quite out of sight of every one, behind a thicket of flowering shrubs. It contained three or four plants; one of which was a beautiful red plant or Coleus, as it is called by florists. It was indeed a beautiful thing—as pretty as any flower, Florry thought, with its soft, velvety, crimson leaves, each edged with gold colour. Florry looked long at it, and the more she looked at it, the more she wanted it. The plant was a small one and in a small pot.

"I don't believe but that Mrs. Hausen would give it to me, if she were here," she said to herself, taking the plant in her hand and holding it up to the sun to see how beautiful the leaves were. "She does give away a great many flowers, I know. I saw Mr. Crampton carry a whole basketful down to old Mrs. Miles; and I am sure Mrs. Hausen would give me one little plant as soon as she would give that cross old woman a dozen nice large geraniums. And Emma is always bringing flowers to Miss Garland and Miss Van Ness at school. If Emma were here, she would give it to me in a minute, I know."