"Here is a flower for you, Beth?" she returned gently. "I hope you will like it. See, it's pure white and like velvet, and though it looks fragile and delicate it keeps its beauty longer than any of the other flowers. Out here in the West they call it an 'immortelle.' It is a prettier name than our eastern title of 'everlasting.'"
Elizabeth's eyes swam with tears of pleasure, and Jack, reaching over, found the white buds in Ruth's lap and made them into a crown for her friend's flowing gold hair, until in the soft light the pale girl looked like a mythical princess in an old Scandinavian legend.
Frieda's eyes were big and wistful and her lips trembled slightly, for she was not accustomed to being overlooked while a strange girl was made much of by her own sister; indeed both Olive and Frieda had to stifle many pangs of jealousy at Jack's interest in Elizabeth Harmon.
But fortunately Ruth caught Frieda's expression. "Dear me, baby, I haven't forgotten you," she announced. "Won't you be a bitter-root blossom? The flower hasn't a pretty name, but you remember it was the first you gathered when we entered the park yesterday, and the reason I select it for you is because the old gypsy fortune teller said you were sweet and good enough to eat, and this flower is used for food by the Indians, isn't it, Carlos?"
Frieda now smiled placidly, not understanding Ruth's meaning nor any of the other nonsense they were talking, but just the same not wishing to be ignored.
"Now we all have our flowers except Jack," Olive remarked fondly.
"Oh, Ruth hasn't a flower for me. She has exhausted the whole collection," Jack answered. "It is just as well, for I am the most prosaic and unflowerlike character in the entire assembly."
"I don't believe that, Miss Ralston," Mrs. Harmon exclaimed, breaking unexpectedly into the conversation. "You are not like the other girls—I never saw girls so unlike as you ranch girls. I suppose you mean that you are more matter-of-fact and have less sentiment than they have, but you would do anything for a person you loved and you would never turn back from what you thought to be right. You'd face danger, like—well, like we ought all to face it," she ended seriously.
Olive kissed her hand to Jack. "She has done all that for me," she murmured, but Jack shook her head, not wishing the Harmons to know anything of Olive's past, and no questions were asked.
"Oh, no, I haven't forgotten Jack. I have purposely saved the columbine for her," Ruth replied. "I must agree with Mrs. Harmon, for it is an aspiring flower and grows taller than any of the other wild flowers. And I am sure it has deep, ardent impulses; for see all its beautiful colors from pure white to rich purple!"