One afternoon the children espied a new flower of a deep orange color growing on a high bank near a clump of bushes. When they reached the blossom they found that it gave off a delicious spicy odor. They were delighted and stooped eagerly to pick it, but before their hands reached the stem a clear little voice spoke severely.
"What is your name, little boy?"
The two stood close together in their surprise and did not answer.
The voice spoke again. "What is your name, little boy?"
"My name is Pierre," answered the boy, looking all about for his questioner.
"What is your name, little girl?" asked the voice.
It was such a sweet voice, as well as shrill, that the little girl was not really afraid, but she stood a little closer to her brother.
"My name is Iona," she said.
Then Pierre spoke quickly, "But who are you?"