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 unity
of interest making their acquaintance grow at lightning speed. Miss
Fletcher was more pleased than she had been for many a day, and as for
Hazel, when her hostess went down on her knees beside a verbena bed and
began taking steel hairpins from her tightly knotted hair, to pin down the
luxuriant plants that they might go on rooting and spread farther, the
little girl felt that the climax of interest was reached.

"I'm going to ask uncle Dick," she said admiringly, "if I can't have some
verbenas and a paper of hairpins."

"Dear me," returned Miss Fletcher, "I wish poor Flossie took as much
interest 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 me
a 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 expressed
her 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 know
God is Love."

"Yes, I know," replied Miss Fletcher, turning to her visitor in surprise at
so decided an answer from such a source; "but it isn't for us to question
what His love is. It's very different from our poor mortal ideas. There's
something the matter with poor Flossie's back, and she can't walk. The
doctors say it's nervous and perhaps she'll outgrow it; but I think she
gets worse all the time."

Hazel watched the speaker with eyes full of trouble and perplexity. "Dear
me," 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, trying
and 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 Miss
Fletcher's face. The lady was regarding her curiously. She saw that
thoughts were hurrying through the mind of the little girl standing there
with 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 of
impoliteness that has been given to me in m