real garden, though, that gave Hazel
such joy to look at that she carried Ella there every day when it didn't
rain, and would have gone every day when it did, only Hannah wouldn't let
her.

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 outside
the fence with her doll, and gazed and gazed so long each time, that the
lady began to regard her with suspicion.

"That young one is after my flowers, I'm afraid, Flossie," she said one day
to the pale little girl in the wheeled chair that stood near another window
looking on the street.

"I've noticed her ever so many times," returned Flossie listlessly. "I
never 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 through
her spectacles. "There, she's grabbing hold of a picket now!" she exclaimed
suddenly. "I'll see to her in quick order."

She jumped up and hurried out of the room, and Flossie's tired eyes watched
her spare figure as she marched down the garden path. She didn't care if
Miss Fletcher did send the strange child away. What difference could it
make to a girl who had the whole world to walk around in, and who could
take her doll and go and play in some other pleasant place?

As Hazel saw Miss Fletcher coming, she gazed at the unsmiling face looking
out 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 the
sharp reproof ready to spring forth.

"Get down off the fence, little girl," she said. "You oughtn't ever to hang
by the pickets; you'll break one if you do."

"Oh, yes," returned Hazel, getting down quickly. "I didn't think of that. I
wanted so much to see if that lily-bud had opened, that looked as if it was
going to, yesterday; and it has."

"Which one?" asked Miss Fletcher, looking around.

"Right there behind that second rosebush," replied Hazel, holding Ella
tight 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 me
think of the quest flower."

"What's that?" Miss Fletcher looked at the strange child curiously. "I
never heard of it."

"It's the perfect flower," returned Hazel.

"Where did you ever see it?"

"I