And away he flew with a mocking laugh; his gay wings fluttered merrily in the sunshine as he poised above the gorgeous garden flowers a while, then he sped away into distance, and was lost to sight, whilst the little Honeysuckle felt very lonely as she watched him disappear.
'Oh dear me!' she sighed; 'I feel rather sad now he has gone. It certainly must be very nice to rise a little in the world, not to be'—
'Take hold of my hand, my dear,' said a kind Bramble, who happened to hear the flower lament her lowly fate. 'I may perhaps be able to give you a lift up.'
'Oh, thank you very much,' was the response; 'but I fear your kindness would be thrown away, for I do not think I shall ever be more than I am at present.'
'One can never know, until he has tried, what may be done,' was the encouraging rejoinder. 'Look at me, for example! I am only what is called a Bramble, very much despised by some folks, no doubt; but then, who despises the fruit I bear? Why, every one likes the hardy blackberry, and I believe "by your fruit ye are known."'
'But I shall never yield fruit,' the Honeysuckle exclaimed; 'and as to flowers'—
'You are as yet only a green sprig of something —what I know not,' interrupted the Bramble sharply. 'But courage, child; take fast hold of me. I am rough but trusty; so take my hand.'
'I fear to climb!' cried the other timidly.
'Nonsense, child! nothing is done without an effort. Only, when once you have secured a chance, hold it fast,' was the caution given.
So she ventured to put forth a tender green tendril and clasp her kind friend's helping hand, which, if rough and thorny, was certainly honest and true.