Jewel's Story Book Part 21

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 pa.s.sive. 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 gra.s.s 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 d.i.c.k 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 appet.i.tes 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!"