THE QUEST FLOWER
The garden in the ravine had been put into fine order to exhibit to Jewel's father and mother. Fresh ferns had been planted around the still pond where Anna Belle's china dolls went swimming, and fresh moss banks had been constructed for their repose. The brook was beginning to lose the impetuosity of spring and now gurgled more quietly between its verdant banks. It delighted Jewel that the place held as much charm for her mother as for herself, and that she listened with as hushed pleasure to the songs of birds in the treetops too high to be disturbed by the presence of dwellers on the ground. It was an ideal spot wherein to read aloud, and the early hours of that sunshiny afternoon found the three seated there by the brookside ready to begin the Story Book.
"Now I'll read the titles and you shall choose what one we will take first," said Mrs. Evringham.
Jewel's attention was as unwinking as Anna Belle's, as she listened to the names.
"Anna Belle ought to have first choice because she's the youngest. Then I'll have next, and you next. Anna Belle chooses The Quest Flower; because she loves flowers so and she can't imagine what that means."
"Very well," returned Mrs. Evringham, smiling and settling herself more comfortably against a tree trunk. "The little girl in this story loved them too;" and so saying, Jewel's mother began to read aloud:—