She soon found a jar such as she wanted, and after washing it clean and bright, filled it full of clear water, and carefully placed the potato, end up, in it, and then looked about for a suitable place for it.
"That window has a good broad seat," she said to herself; "and it is sunny, but the glass is so grimy! However, it will do. Better yet, I will open the window."
This was more easily said than done, for, although the weather was still warm—it being September—the window did not appear to have been opened for some time.
Flora struggled and pushed, and at length succeeded in opening it, making noise enough as she did so, to attract the attention of a young girl who was passing. She stopped, looking up, inquiringly.
Flora was heated with her exertions and the thought of having attracted attention, so that before she realized what she was doing, she was smiling and saying:
"This old window was very hard to raise, but I was determined to do it."
"No," said the girl, looking as if she was not quite sure that it was the right thing to say.
"What is that in the jar?" she asked, as she came closer, and looked at the potato curiously, and then at Flora in a friendly way that pleased her.
"This," said Flora, patting the vegetable; "it is a potato."
"But what have you put it in there for?" persisted the girl.