ries and
jealousies among the flowers; but from the glances which they turned
on each other, this morning, it was evident that their feelings
towards the stranger were exactly alike. However, as might be
expected from their different dispositions, they expressed their
dislike and contempt for her in different ways; but at first all
hesitated to address her, for no one seemed to find language strong
enough to express the scorn they felt for her; until the balsam, who
never could keep silent long, inquired of the stranger, in a very
impatient tone, what was her name, and how she came there.

The poor thing hesitated an instant, and her face grew very red; she
must have known that her presence in that company was very much
undesired, and when she spoke, it was in a low and embarrassed tone.

"My name is Papaver, and--"

But the Marygold laughed aloud. "Papaver!" she repeated in her most
scornful tone; "she is nothing more nor less than a Poppy--a great
offensive Poppy, whose breath fairly makes me sick. Long ago,
when--"

But here the Marygold stopped short, it would not do, to confess to
her genteel friends, that she had formerly been acquainted with the
disreputable stranger. They did not heed her embarrassment, however,
for every one, now that the silence was broken, was anxious to
speak; all but the Mimosa, who could not utter a word, for she had
fainted quite away--the red Rose who was very diffident, and the
Dahlia who was too dignified to meddle with such trifling affairs.

"You great, red-faced thing!" said the Carnation, "how came you here
in your ragged dress? Do you know what kind of company you are in?
Who first saw her here?"

"I saw her," said the Morning Glory, who usually waked quite early,
"I saw her before she had got her eyes open; and what do you suppose
she had on her head? Why a little green cap which she has just
pulled off and thrown away. There it lies on the ground now. Only
look at it! no wonder she was ashamed of it. Can you think what she
wore it for?"

"Why, yes!" said the Ladies' Slipper. "She is so handsome and so
delicate that she was fearful the early hours might injure her
health and destroy her charms!"

"No, no!" interrupted another; "she was afraid the morning breeze
might steal away her sweet breath!"

"You had better gather up your sweet leaves, and put on your cap
again," said the London Pride. "I see a golden-winged butterfly in
Calla's cup; your spicy breath will soon