f course, the room must be swept and put in
order, so that the bright clean faces might not seem out of place in it.
And when at last a cluster of wee pink buds crowned the green stem,
Polly's joy knew no bounds. Her poor mother laughed aloud, which was a
rare thing for her to do, to see her little daughter dancing about and
clapping her hands in glee. 'Oh, mommy,' she cried, 'we must make it as
nice as we can for them here, the pretty darlings, for flowers are not
used to living in a cellar; and we must never say or do any wicked
things before them, or they'll be scared, and die right away. And if we
are all very, very good, they'll grow, and grow, and grow, till they
look like a whole garden.'

"And the mother, catching the spirit of the child, grew more cheerful
and hopeful and industrious, and the under-ground home became neater and
neater, until it was neatness itself. And when any of the smaller
children were tempted, as the best of children often are, to quarrel and
call each other naughty names, Polly would say, with warning voice and
finger, 'Hush! the flowers will hear you;' and the little ones kissed
and made up again.

"And this morning, when the lady of the Flower Mission was passing by
with a basket of roses and lilies in her hand, Polly ran up the cellar
steps and begged her to wait a moment, 'For,' said she, bashfully, '_I_
have a flower to send to some sick child.'

"'You have!' said the lady, in surprise, for she thought when she first
saw the little girl that she came to beg a flower, not to offer one.
'Pray where did you get it, my dear?'

"And Polly told her the whole story, just as I have told it to you,
and the lady went down into the dark room, and talked for almost an hour
in the kindest manner with Polly's mother, and smiled brightly upon the
beautiful geranium, now filled with round pink bunches of buds and
blossoms. And I shouldn't wonder if some of those buds opened in a much
pleasanter home than that cellar. But I'm glad _I_ grew there; for my
heart is filled with happiness when I think that through me and mine
dear little Polly has become a better girl, made a happier home, and
gained in the pretty flower lady a lovely friend."

"All the same, _I'd_ rather come from a garden," said the rose.

"And I from a meadow," said the daisy.

"And I from a lake," murmured the water-lily.

"But I wouldn't," said the lame girl, forgetting her pain, with flushed
cheeks and sparkling eyes--"I wo