Marsh Marigold.
“It is the marsh marigold,” said Tom.
“Very good! Now this one?”
As he held it up all three answered at once—“The primrose!”
“We found this one also growing at the edge of the brook.” As he spoke, Uncle George held out a very pretty plant. Its flowers were of a pale pinkish blue colour. They were shaped like the flowers of the wallflower, but were smaller. The flowers were borne up upon a long stalk which sprang from a rosette of pretty little leaves.
“It is the lady’s smock,” said Dolly; “I remembered that one because it is so pretty.”
“Well done, Dolly!” said her uncle proudly. “Now, I think we have quite enough to go on with. Let us take these up one by one and examine and draw parts of them. First take the wood anemone. What do you call this?”
Uncle George pointed to the stout part of the plant that had been in the ground.
“The root,” said Frank.
“No, Frank!” his uncle replied. “But that is what I thought you would say. Now, tell us why you think it is the root.”