“Perhaps,” said the flowers to each other, “perhaps our Angel can be of some help. Let us speak to her.”
And when evening came, and the Angel closed the flowers as she kissed them good-night, she heard one whisper, “Something makes our little friend very sad. She will not tell us. See if she will tell you her secret.” They saw the Angel stoop down and whisper something to the little plant and go away.
“See how our little companion has raised its head this morning,” said the grasses.
“An Angel visited her last night,” one answered.
By and by a day came when the little plant was covered with many tiny blossoms. The other flowers rejoiced to see them. “We’ve guessed your secret. What beautiful flower children—blue, like the sky. It makes the sky seem very near.”
“That is my secret,” answered the little plant. “When I told it to the Angel I said, ‘My flowers must be just the colour of the sky.’ And she whispered, ‘Then always look up, for your flowers will be like that which you love most.’ Then she went away.”
The Forget-me-not was happy. She never drooped her head again, and the Angel always kissed her good-night as she passed by.