On each side of the path were beds full of gay flowers, among which was a very vain geranium, who, when no one was about, used to mock the thyme because it was in such an exposed spot and liable to be walked on.
“The proper place for plants,” the geranium said, “is in a bed where they are safe from people’s feet and are treated with respect. Look at me!”
“Yes,” said the thyme, “but the more I am trampled on the sweeter I become and the more the lady who planted me likes me. Haven’t you seen her squeezing me with her beautiful hands and then inhaling my fragrance, whereas if anything hits you you are done for for ever.”
And at that moment a tennis ball, struck out of the court near by, fell on the geranium and broke it in two.
The moral is that every one has his own place in life and we should mind our own business.
“Carnation”