"J'anium?" said Molly.
"Yes. This is called the 'Jewess' there are so many kinds that they have to be named. This is the 'Jewess' geranium."
"Water?" said Molly.
"Water? No, this does not need water, because the roots are in a pot, you know, and have not been disturbed. It will want water if rain don't come, by and by."
"What's you?" was Molly's next question, given with more directness.
"Me? I am Daisy Randolph. And I love flowers; and you love flowers. May I come and see you sometimes? Will you let me?"
Molly's grunt this time was not unintelligible. It was queer, but there was certainly a tone of assent in it. She sat looking now at the "Jewess" blossoms and now at Daisy.
"And I love Jesus," the child went on. "Do you love Him?"
The grunt was of pure question, in answer to this speech. Molly did not understand. Daisy stooped down to face her on more equal terms.
"There is a great King up in heaven, who loves you, Molly. He loves you so well that He died for you. And if you love Him, He will take you there when you die and give you a white robe and a crown of gold, and make you blessed."