SWEET VIOLET
A little girl brought a violet plant and a pansy plant to her teacher.
"See!" said she. "These were given to me. May I grow them in school?"
"Certainly," said the teacher. "Here are two little pots. We will plant them both, and set them on the broad window-sill. You can water them each day, and we shall see how well they will grow."
"This is dreadful," said the Pansy to the Violet, as they stood side by side on the window-sill. "How shall we bear the dust and heat of this room after the fresh sweet air of the garden? I am sure I shall die."
"Oh! it is not quite so bad as that," said the Violet. "It certainly is not so pleasant as the garden, but when the window is opened one feels better."
"My leaves are covered with dust already. How is one to breathe?" grumbled the Pansy.
"So are mine," said the Violet; "but never mind. Don't think about it. Let us turn our attention to making our flowers."
"You don't mean to say that you think of making a flower here!" cried the Pansy. "What would be the use? You would never be able to make good seed, for no bee or butterfly will ever find its way in amongst these close buildings."
"One never knows what may happen," said the Violet; "and it is better to be busy than to mope."