“Now,” said Mrs. Edson, taking hold of the buttercup again, “you see here, at the top of each stamen, the slight enlargement that I mentioned. It looks like a kind of knob, and it really is a hard, hollow sack, or bag, containing a fine yellow powder, which is called pollen. Is that plain so far, dearie?”
“Pollen, yes, mamma! And do you wish me to remember that name too?”
“Yes, it is very necessary that you should do so. You will soon learn why. Now look again at the green ovary. That is also hollow, and contains seeds or eggs, as I said before. In plants we 35 call them seeds and in animals eggs. And it is these seeds that grow into the baby plants. But they cannot grow alone, without help. With a certain kind of help they can and do grow, and what do you suppose that help is?”
Elsie gazed earnestly at her mother, trying to think it out. But she was compelled to shake her head after all.
“I can’t imagine,” she said.
“Nothing but that some of the pollen shall be mixed with them,” said her mother.
“Oh, I see, I see!” Elsie cried delightedly. “That is why the stamens with the pollen in them are right over the ovaries.”
“Yes, dear, you have guessed it. The ripe pollen, falling into the ripe ovary, would fertilize the seeds. And with 36 some plants, the earlier and simpler kinds, this is just what happens. But here you can see that the ovary is not ripe. It is hard and green. When it is ripe its color is yellow. But the pollen is ripe now, you can see it all over the anthers, as the knobs or sacks are called. If the pollen should fall upon the ovary now it would roll off without entering, and would be wasted. Now what do you suppose happens?”
“The—the—”
Elsie hesitated, looking with very bright eyes at her mother, almost sure enough to go on, but not quite. It seemed so peculiar, the thought that had come to her, and she did not see just how it could be.