CHAPTER VIII
THE QUEST FLOWER
The garden in the ravine had been put into fine order to exhibit to Jewel'sfather and mother. Fresh ferns had been planted around the still pond whereAnna Belle's china dolls went swimming, and fresh moss banks had beenconstructed for their repose. The brook was beginning to lose theimpetuosity of spring and now gurgled more quietly between its verdantbanks. It delighted Jewel that the place held as much charm for her motheras for herself, and that she listened with as hushed pleasure to the songsof birds in the treetops too high to be disturbed by the presence ofdwellers on the ground. It was an ideal spot wherein to read aloud, and theearly hours of that sunshiny afternoon found the three seated there by thebrookside ready to begin the Story Book.
"Now I'll read the titles and you shall choose what one we will takefirst," said Mrs. Evringham.
Jewel's attention was as unwinking as Anna Belle's, as she listened to thenames.
"Anna Belle ought to have first choice because she's the youngest. ThenI'll have next, and you next. Anna Belle chooses The Quest Flower; becauseshe loves flowers so and she can't imagine what that means."
"Very well," returned Mrs. Evringham, smiling and settling herself morecomfortably against a tree trunk. "The little girl in this story lovedthem too;" and so saying, Jewel's mother began to read aloud:--
THE QUEST FLOWER
Hazel Wright learned to love her uncle Dick Badger very much during a visithe made at her mother's home in Boston. She became well acquainted withhim. He was always kind to her in his quiet way, and always had time totake her on his knee and listen to whatever she had to tell about herschool or her plays, and even took an interest in her doll, Ella. Mrs.Wright used to laugh and tell her brother that he was a wonderful oldbachelor, and could give lessons to many a husband and father; upon whichuncle Dick responded that he had always been fond of assuming a virtue ifhe had it not; and Hazel wondered if "assuming-a-virtue" were a littlegirl. At any rate, she loved uncle Dick and wished he would live with themalways; so it will be seen that when it was suddenly decided that Hazel wasto go home with him to the town where he lived, she was delighted.
"Father and I are called away on business, Hazel," her mother said to herone day, "and we have been wondering what to do with you. Uncle Dick sayshe'll take you home with him if you would like to go."
"Oh, yes, I would," replied the little girl; for it was vacation and shewanted an outing. "Uncle Dick has a big yard, and Ella and I can have funthere."
"I'm sure you can. Uncle Dick's housekeeper, Hannah, is a kind soul, andshe knew me when I was as little as you are, and will take good care ofyou."
The evening before Hazel and her uncle were to leave, Mrs. Wright spoke toher brother in private.
"It seems too bad not to be able to write aunt Hazel that her namesake iscoming," she said. "Is she as bitter as ever?"
"Oh, yes. No change."
"Just think of it!" exclaimed Mrs. Wright. "She lives within a stone'sthrow of you, and yet can remain unforgiving so many years. Let me see--itis eight; for Hazel is ten years old, and I know she was two when thetrouble about the property camp up; but you did right, Dick, and some timeaunt Hazel must know it."
"Oh, I think she has lucid intervals when she knows it now," returned Mr.Badger; "but her pride won't let her admit it. If it amuses her, it doesn'thurt me for her to pass me on the street without a word or a look. When athing like that has run along for years, it isn't easy to make any change."
"Oh, but it is so unchristian, so wrong," returned his sister. "If you onlyhad a loving enough feeling, Dick, it seems as if you might take her bystorm."
Mr. Badger smiled at some memory. "I tried once. She did the storming." Heshrugged his shoulders. "I'm a man of peace. I decided to let her alone."
Mrs. Wright shook her head. "Well, I haven't told Hazel anything about it.She knows she is named for my aunt; but she doesn't know where aunt Hazellives, and I wish you would warn Hannah not to tell the child anythingabout her or the affair. You know we lay a great deal of stress on notvoicing discord of my kind."
"Yes, I know," Mr. Badger smiled and nodded. 'Your methods seem to haveturned out a mighty nice little girl, and it's been a wonder to me eversince I came, to see you going about, such a different creature from whatyou used to be."
"Yes, I'm well and happy," returned Mrs. Wright, "and I long to have thistrouble between you and aunt Hazel at an end. I suppose Hazel isn't likelyto come in contact with her at all."
"No, indeed; no more than if aunt Hazel lived in Kamschatka. She does, ifit's cold enough there."
"Dear woman. She ignored the last two letters I wrote her, I supposebecause I sided with you."
"Oh, certainly, that would be an unpardonable offense. Hannah tells me shehas a crippled child visiting her now, the daughter of some friends. Hannahpersists in keeping an eye on aunt Hazel's affairs, and telling me aboutthem. Hannah will be pleased to have little Hazel to make a pet of for afew weeks."
He was right. The housekeeper was charmed. She did everything to make Hazelfeel at home in her uncle's house, and discovering that the little girl hada passion for flowers, let her make a garden bed of her own. Hazel wentwith her uncle to buy plants for this, and she had great fun takinggeraniums and pansies out of their pots and planting them in the soft brownearth of the round garden plot; and every day blue-eyed Ella, her doll, satby and watched Hazel pick out every little green weed that had put its headup in the night.
"You're only grass, dearie," she would say to one as she uprooted it, "andgrass is all right most everywhere; but this is a garden, so run away."
Not very far down the street was a real garden, though, that gave Hazelsuch joy to look at that she carried Ella there every day when it didn'train, and would have gone every day when it did, only Hannah wouldn't lether.
The owner of the garden, Miss Fletcher, at the window where she sat sewing,began to notice the little stranger at last; for the child stood outsidethe fence with her doll, and gazed and gazed so long each time, that thelady began to regard her with suspicion.
"That young one is after my flowers, I'm afraid, Flossie," she said one dayto the pale little girl in the wheeled chair that stood near another windowlooking on the street.
"I've noticed her ever so many times," returned Flossie listlessly. "Inever saw her until this week, and she's always alone."
"Well, I won't have her climbing on my fence!" exclaimed Miss Fletcher,half laying down her work and watching Hazel's movements sharply throughher spectacles. "There, she's grabbing hold of a picket now!" she exclaimedsuddenly. "I'll see to her in quick order."
She jumped up and hurried out of the room, and Flossie's tired eyes watchedher spare figure as she marched down the garden path. She didn't care ifMiss Fletcher did send the strange child away. What difference could itmake to a girl who had the whole world to walk around in, and who couldtake her doll and go and play in some other pleasant place?
As Hazel saw Miss Fletcher coming, she gazed at the unsmiling face lookingout from hair drawn back in a tight knot; and Miss Fletcher, on her part,saw such winning eagerness in the smile that met her, that she modified thesharp reproof ready to spring forth.
"Get down off the fence, little girl," she said. "You oughtn't ever to hangby the pickets; you'll break one if you do."
"Oh, yes," returned Hazel, getting down quickly. "I didn't think of that. Iwanted so much to see if that lily-bud had opened, that looked as if it wasgoing to, yesterday; and it has."
"Which one?" asked Miss Fletcher, looking around.
"Right there behind that second rosebush," replied Hazel, holding Ellatight with one arm while she pointed eagerly.
"Oh, yes." Miss Fletcher went over to the plant.
"I think it is the loveliest of all," went on the little girl. "It makes methink of the quest flower."
"What's that?" Miss Fletcher looked at the strange child curiously. "Inever heard of it."
"It's the perfect flower,
" returned Hazel.
"Where did you ever see it?"
"I never did, but I read about it."
"Where is it to be bought?" Miss Fletcher was really interested now,because flowers were her hobby.
"In the story it says at the Public Garden; but I've been to the PublicGarden in Boston, and I never saw any I thought were as beautiful asyours."
Hazel was not trying to win Miss Fletcher's heart, but she had found theroad to it.
The care-lined face regarded her more closely than ever. "I don't rememberyou. I thought I knew all the children around here."
"No 'm. I'm a visitor. I live in Boston; and we have a flat and of coursethere isn't any yard, and I think your garden is perfectly beautiful. Icome to see it every day, and it's fun to stand out here and count thesmells."
Miss Fletcher's face broke into a smile. It did really seem as if itcracked, because her lips had been set in such a tight line. "It ain't veryoften children like flowers unless they can pick them," she replied. "Ican't sleep nights sometimes, wishing my garden wasn't so near the fence."
The little girl smiled and pointed to a climbing rose that had strayed fromits trellis, and one pink flower that was poking its pretty little facebetween the pickets. "See that one," she said. "I think it wanted to lookup and down the street, don't you?"
"And you didn't gather it," returned Miss Fletcher, looking at Hazelapprovingly. "Well, now, for anybody fond of flowers as you are, I thinkthat was real heroic."
"She belongs to nice folks," she decided mentally.
"Oh, it was a tame flower," returned the child, "and that would have beenerror. If it had been a wild one I would have picked it."
"Error, eh?" returned Miss Fletcher, and again her thin lips parted in asmile. "Well, I wish everybody felt that way."
"Uncle Dick lets me have a garden," said Hazel. "He let me buy geraniumsand pansies and lemon verbena--I love that, don't you?"
"Yes. I've got a big plant of it back here. Wouldn't you like to come inand see it?"
"Oh, thank you," returned Hazel, her gray eyes sparkling; and MissFletcher felt quite a glow of pleasure in seeing the happiness she wasconferring by the invitation. Most of her friends took her garden as amatter of course; and smiled patronizingly at her devotion to it.
In a minute the little girl had run to the gate in the white fence, and,entering, joined the mistress of the house, who stood beside theflourishing plants blooming in all their summer loveliness.
For the next fifteen minutes neither of the two knew that time was flying.They talked and compared and smelled of this blossom and that, their unityof interest making their acquaintance grow at lightning speed. MissFletcher was more pleased than she had been for many a day, and as forHazel, when her hostess went down on her knees beside a verbena bed andbegan taking steel hairpins from her tightly knotted hair, to pin down theluxuriant plants that they might go on rooting and spread farther, thelittle girl felt that the climax of interest was reached.
"I'm going to ask uncle Dick," she said admiringly, "if I can't have someverbenas and a paper of hairpins."
"Dear me," returned Miss Fletcher, "I wish poor Flossie took as muchinterest in the garden as you do."
"'Flossie' sounds like a kitten, returned Hazel.
"She's a little human kitten: a poor little afflicted girl who is making mea visit. You can see her sitting up there in the house, by the window."
Hazel looked up and caught a glimpse of a pale face. Her eyes expressedher wonder. "Who afflicted her?" she asked softly.
"Her Heavenly Father, for some wise purpose," was the response.
"Oh, it couldn't have been that!" returned the child, shocked. "You knowGod is Love."
"Yes, I know," replied Miss Fletcher, turning to her visitor in surprise atso decided an answer from such a source; "but it isn't for us to questionwhat His love is. It's very different from our poor mortal ideas. There'ssomething the matter with poor Flossie's back, and she can't walk. Thedoctors say it's nervous and perhaps she'll outgrow it; but I think shegets worse all the time."
Hazel watched the speaker with eyes full of trouble and perplexity. "Dearme," she replied, "if you think God made her get that way, who do you think's going to cure her?"
"Nobody, it seems. Her people have spent more than they can afford, tryingand trying. They've made themselves poor, but nobody's helped her so far."
Hazel's eyes swept over the roses and lilies and then back to MissFletcher's face. The lady was regarding her curiously. She saw thatthoughts were hurrying through the mind of the little girl standing therewith her doll in her arms.
"You look as if you wanted to say something," she said at last.
"I don't want to be impolite," returned Hazel, hesitating.
"Well," returned Miss Fletcher dryly, "if you knew the amount ofimpoliteness that has been given to me in my time, you wouldn't hesitateabout adding a little more. Speak out and tell me what you are thinking."
"I was thinking how wonderful and how nice it is that flowers will grow foreverybody," said Hazel, half reluctantly.
"How's that?" demanded her new friend, in fresh surprise. "Have you decidedI don't deserve them?"
"Oh, you deserve them, of course," replied the child quickly; "but when youhave such thoughts about God, it's a wonder His flowers can grow sobeautifully in your yard."
Miss Fletcher felt a warmth come into her cheeks.
"Well," she returned rather sharply, "I should like to know what sort ofteaching you've had. You're a big enough girl to know that it's aChristian's business to be resigned to the will of God. You don't happen tohave seen many, sick folks, I guess--what is your name?"
"Hazel."
"Why, that's queer, so is mine; and it isn't a common one."
"Isn't that nice!" returned the child. "We're both named Hazel and we bothlove flowers so much."
"Yes; that's quite a coincidence. Now, why shouldn't flowers grow for me, Ishould like to know?"
"Why, you think God afflicted that little girl's back, and didn't let herwalk. Why, Miss Fletcher," the child's voice grew more earnest, "Hewouldn't do it any more than I'd kneel down and break the stem of thatlovely quest flower and let it hang there and wither."
Miss Fletcher pushed up her spectacles and gazed down into the clear grayeyes.
"Does Flossie think He would?" added Hazel with soft amazement.
"I suppose she does."
"Then does she say her prayers just the same?"
"Of course she does."
"What a kind girl she must be!" exclaimed Hazel earnestly.
"Why do you say that?"
"Because _I_ wouldn't pray to anybody that I believed kept me afflicted."
Miss Fletcher started back. "Why, child!" she exclaimed, "I should thinkyou'd expect a thunderbolt. Where do your folks go to church, for pity'ssake?"
"To the Christian Science church."
"Oh--h, that's what's the matter with you! Some of Flossie's relatives haveheard about that, and they've been teasing her mother to try it. I'm sureI'd try anything that wasn't blasphemous."
"What is blasphemous?"
"Why--why--anything that isn't respectful to God is blasphemous."
"Oh!" returned Hazel. Then she added softly, "I should think you were that,now."
"What!" and Miss Fletcher seemed to tower above her visitor in heramazement.
"Oh--please excuse me. I didn't mean to be impolite; but if you'll just_try_, you'll find out what a mistake you and Flossie have been making, andthat God _wants_ to heal her."
The two looked at one another for a silent half-minute, the little girl'sheart beating faster under the grim gaze.
"You might come and see her some day," suggested Miss Fletcher, at last."She has a dull time of it, poor child. I've asked the children to come in,and they've all been very kind, but it's vacation, and a good many that Iknow have gone away."
"I will," replied Hazel. "Doesn't she like to come out here where theflowers are?"
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sp; "Yes; it's been a little too cloudy and threatening to-day, but if it'sclear to-morrow I'll wheel her out under the elm-tree, and she'd like avisit from you. Are you staying far from here?"
"No, uncle Dick's is right on this street."
"What's his last name?"
"Mr. Badger," replied Hazel, and she didn't notice the sudden stiffeningthat went through Miss Fletcher.
"What is your last name?" asked the lady, in a changed voice.
"Wright."
This time any one who had eyes for something beside the flowers might haveseen Miss Fletcher start. Color flew into her thin cheeks, and the eyesthat stared at Hazel's straw tam-o'-shanter grew dim. This was dear MabelBadger's child; her little namesake, her own flesh and blood.
Her jaw felt rigid as she asked the next question. "Have you ever spoken toyour uncle Dick about my garden?"
"Yes, indeed. That's why he let me make one; and every night he asks,'Well, how's Miss Fletcher's garden to-day,' and I tell him all about it"
"And didn't he ever say anything to you about me?"
"Why, no;" the child looked up wonderingly. "He doesn't know you, does he?"
"We used to know one another," returned Miss Fletcher stiffly.
Richard had certainly behaved very decently in this particular instance. Atleast he had told no lies.
"Hazel is such an unusual name," she went on, after a minute. "Who were younamed for?"
"My mother's favorite aunt," returned the child.
"Where does she live?"
"I don't know," replied Hazel vaguely. "My mother was talking to me abouther the evening before uncle Dick and I left Boston. She told me how muchshe loved aunt Hazel; but that error had crept in, and they couldn't seeeach other just now, but that God would bring it all right some day. I havea lovely silver spoon she gave me when I was a baby."
Miss Fletcher stooped to her border and cut a bunch of mignonette with thescissors that hung from her belt. "Here's something for you to smell of asyou walk home," she said, and Hazel saw her new friend's hand tremble asshe held out the flowers. "Do you ever kiss strangers?" added the hostessas she rose to her feet.
Hazel held up her face and took hold of Miss Fletcher's arm as she kissedher. "I think you've been so kind to me," she said warmly. "I've had thebest time!"
"Well, pick the climbing rose as you pass," returned Miss Fletcher. "Itseems to want to see the world. Let it go along with you; and don't forgetto come to-morrow. I hope it will be pleasant."
She stood still, the warm breeze ruffling the thin locks about herforehead, and watched the little girl trip along the walk. The child lookedback and smiled as she stopped to pick the pink rose, and when she threw akiss to Miss Fletcher, that lady found herself responding.
She went into the house with a flush remaining in her cheeks.
"How long you stayed, aunt Hazel," said the little invalid fretfully as sheentered.
"I expect I did," returned Miss Fletcher, and there was a new life in hertone that Flossie noticed.
"Who is that girl?"
"Her name is Hazel Wright, and she is living at the Badgers'. She's ascrazy about flowers as I am, so we had a lot to say. She gave me a lectureon religion, too;" an excited little laugh escaped between the speaker'slips. "She's a very unusual child; and she certainly has a look of theFletchers."
"What? I thought you said her name was Wright."
"It is! My tongue slipped. She's coming to see you to-morrow, Flossie. Wemust fix up your doll. I'll wash and iron her pink dress this veryafternoon; for Hazel has a beauty doll, herself. I think you'll like thatlittle girl."
That evening when uncle Dick and Hazel were at their supper, Mr. Badgerquestioned her as usual about her day.
"I've had the most _fun_," she replied. "I've been to see Miss Fletcher,and she took me into her garden, and we smelled of all the flowers, andhad the loveliest time!"
Hannah was standing behind the little girl's chair, and her eyes spokevolumes as she nodded significantly at her employer.
"Yes, sir, she told Miss Fletcher where she was visiting, and she gave hera bunch of mignonette and a rose to bring home."
"Yes," agreed Hazel, "they're in a vase in the parlor now, and she asked meto come to-morrow to see an afflicted girl that's living with her. Youknow, uncle Dick," Hazel lifted her eyes to him earnestly, "you know how itsays everywhere in the Bible that anybody that's afflicted goes to God andHe heals them; and what do you think! Miss Fletcher and that little Flossiegirl both believe God afflicted her and fixed her back so she can't walk!"
Mr. Badger smiled as he met the wondering eyes. "That isn't ChristianScience, is it?" he returned.
"I'd rather never have a garden even like Miss Fletcher's than to thinkthat," declared Hazel, as she went on with her supper. "I feel so sorry forthem!"
"So you're going over to-morrow," said Mr. Badger. "What are you going todo; treat the little invalid?"
"Why, no indeed, not unless she asks me to."
"Why not?"
"Because it would be error; it's the worst kind of impoliteness to treatanybody that doesn't ask you to; but I've got to know every minute that herbelief is a lie, and that God doesn't know anything about it."
"I thought God knew everything," said Mr. Badger, regarding the childcuriously.
"He does, of course, everything that's going to last forever and ever:everything that's beautiful and good and strong. Whatever God thinks abouthas _got_ to last." The child lifted her shoulders. "I'm glad He doesn'tthink about mistakes,--sickness, and everything like that, aren't you?"
"I don't want sickness to last forever, I'm sure" returned Mr. Badger.
The following day was clear and bright, and early in the afternoon Hazel,dressed in a clean gingham frock, took her doll and walked up the street toMiss Fletcher's.
The wheeled chair was already out under the elm-tree, and Flossie waswatching for her guest. Miss Fletcher was sitting near her, sewing, andwaiting with concealed impatience for the appearance of the bright faceunder the straw tam-o'-shanter.
As soon as Hazel reached the corner of the fence and saw them there, shebegan to run, her eyes fixed eagerly on the white figure in the wheeledchair. The blue eyes that looked so tired regarded her curiously as she ranup the garden path and across the grass to the large, shady tree.
Hazel had never been close to a sick person, and something in Flossie'sappearance and the whiteness of her thin hands that clasped the doll in thegay pink dress brought a lump into the well child's throat and made herheart beat.
"Dear Father, I want to help her!" she said under her breath, and MissFletcher noticed that she had no eyes for her, and saw the wondering pityin her face as she came straight up to the invalid's chair.
"Flossie Wallace, this is Hazel Wright," she said, and Flossie smiled alittle under the love that leaped from Hazel's eyes into hers.
"I'm glad you brought your doll," said Flossie.
"Ella goes everywhere I do," returned Hazel. "What's your doll's name?"
"Bernice; I think Bernice is a beautiful name," said Flossie.
"So do I," returned Hazel. Then the two children were silent a minute,looking at one another, uncertain how to go on.
Hazel was the first to speak. "Isn't it lovely to live with this garden?"she asked.
"Yes, aunt Hazel has nice flowers."
"I have an aunt Hazel, too," said the little visitor.
"Miss Fletcher isn't my real aunt, but I call her that," remarked Flossie.
"And _you_ might do it, too," suggested Miss Fletcher, looking at Hazel, towhom her heart warmed more and more in spite of the astonishing charges ofthe day before.
"Do you think I could call you aunt Hazel?" asked the child, rather shyly.
"For the sake of being cousin to my garden, you might. Don't you think so?"
"How is the quest flower to-day?" asked Hazel.
"Which? Oh, you mean the garden lily. There's another bud."
"Oh, may I look at it?" cried Haz
el, "and wouldn't you like to come too?"turning to Flossie. "Can't I roll your chair?"
"Yes, indeed," said Miss Fletcher, pleased. "It rolls very easily. GiveFlossie your doll, too, and we'll all go and see the lily bud."
Hazel obeyed, and carefully pushing the light chair, they moved slowlytoward the spot where the white chalices of the garden lilies poured forththeir incense.
"Miss Fletcher," cried Hazel excitedly, dropping on her knees beside thebed, "that is going to be the most beautiful of all. When it is perfectlyopen the plant will be ready to take to the king." The little girl liftedher shoulders and looked up at her hostess, smiling.
"What king is going to get my lily?"
"The one who will send you on your quest."
"What am I to go in quest of?" inquired Miss Fletcher, much entertained.
"I don't know;" Hazel shook her head. "Every one's errand is different."
"What is a quest?" asked Flossie.
"You tell her, Hazel."
"Why, mother says it's a search for some treasure."
"You must tell us this story about the quest flower some day," said MissFletcher.
"I have the story of it here," returned Hazel eagerly. "I've read it overand over again because I love it, and so mother put it in my trunk with myChristian Science books. I can bring it over and read it to you, if youwant me to. You'd like it, I know, Miss Fletcher."
"Aunt Hazel told me you were a Christian Scientist," said Flossie. "I neversaw one before, but people have talked to mother about it."
"I could bring _those_ books over, too," replied Hazel wistfully, "and wecould read the lesson every day, and perhaps it would make you feelbetter."
"I don't know what it's about," said Flossie.
"It's about making sick people well and sinful people good."
"I'm sinful, too, part of the time," answered Flossie. "Sometimes I don'tlike to live, and I wish I didn't have to, and everybody says that'ssinful."
Sudden tears started to Miss Fletcher's eyes, and as the little girls werelooking at one another absorbedly, Hazel standing close to the wheeledchair, she stole away, unobserved, to the house.
"She ought to be cured," she said to herself excitedly. "She ought to becured. There's that one more chance, anyway. I've got to where I'm ready tolet the babes and sucklings have a try!"