The red plant

by Lucy Ellen Guernsey

Mrs. Hausen was not at home, but she had left the patterns rolled up and ready for Mrs. Lester, if she should send for them; for she was a very thoughtful woman, and never forgot a promise.

"You are Mrs. Lester's little girl, I suppose," said the woman who handed her the patterns.

"Yes, ma'am," answered Flora.

"Well, here are your patterns all ready, you see. You can walk around and look at the flowers, if you like; but don't touch anything."

"Thank you, ma'am," said Flora, but in her heart she thought, "She had no business to say that to me. Just as if I would touch anything: as if I were a thief."

Florry looked at one flower-bed and then at another, till she came to a stand which was placed, as it seemed, quite out of sight of every one, behind a thicket of flowering shrubs. It contained three or four plants; one of which was a beautiful red plant or Coleus, as it is called by florists. It was indeed a beautiful thing—as pretty as any flower, Florry thought, with its soft, velvety, crimson leaves, each edged with gold colour. Florry looked long at it, and the more she looked at it, the more she wanted it. The plant was a small one and in a small pot.

"I don't believe but that Mrs. Hausen would give it to me, if she were here," she said to herself, taking the plant in her hand and holding it up to the sun to see how beautiful the leaves were. "She does give away a great many flowers, I know. I saw Mr. Crampton carry a whole basketful down to old Mrs. Miles; and I am sure Mrs. Hausen would give me one little plant as soon as she would give that cross old woman a dozen nice large geraniums. And Emma is always bringing flowers to Miss Garland and Miss Van Ness at school. If Emma were here, she would give it to me in a minute, I know."

It is not very hard to see to what all this reasoning was leading. Florry had been very indignant at Mrs. Crampton for telling her not to touch anything. Nevertheless, she lifted the red plant from its place once more, and slipping it into her basket, where there was plenty of room for it, she hurried home as fast as she could go. It was quite a long walk, for Mr. Hausen lived nearly a mile from the village, and at every step Florry's basket seemed to grow heavier. She was already sorry that she had taken the red plant, and she would have given a great deal to have had it safely in its place once more, but she had lingered too long already, and dared not go back. Besides, somebody might see her—Mr. Hausen himself, very likely—and then what should she say or do? And what should she say to her mother? She would be sure to ask the history of the plant, and what could Florry say? She would have to tell a lie, and say that Mrs. Hausen gave it to her.

Now Flora Lester, though she had given way to a strong temptation, and taken what did not belong to her, was not in general a naughty child. On the contrary, she was usually a very good girl, and she had been brought up with a great horror of telling lies. Parents, teachers, and playmates all believed Florry when she said anything; and if Miss Van Ness wanted a true and impartial account of any trouble in playground or school-room, Florry was always called upon; and the other girls were quite satisfied in general that she should be their spokesman. The idea of telling a deliberate lie to hide her fault sent a cold pain through the little girl's heart; and now, for the first time, she realized what she had done.

"I am a thief," she said to herself. "Yes, I am a thief. I have stolen other people's goods. The plant belonged to Mrs. Hausen, and I had no business to touch it."