he wondering pity
in her face as she came straight up to the invalid's chair.

"Flossie Wallace, this is Hazel Wright," she said, and Flossie smiled a
little 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, to
whom her heart warmed more and more in spite of the astonishing charges of
the 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 Hazel, "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. Give
Flossie your doll, too, and we'll all go and see the lily bud."

Hazel obeyed, and carefully pushing the light chair, they moved slowly
toward the spot where the white chalices of the garden lilies poured forth
their incense.

"Miss Fletcher," cried Hazel excitedly, dropping on her knees beside the
bed, "that is going to be the most beautiful of all. When it is perfectly
open the plant will be ready to take to the king." The little girl lifted
her 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 Miss
Fletcher.

"I have the story of it here," returned Hazel eagerly. "I've read it over
and over again because I love i