“I do not remember how it was made. No, I cannot get it again. It is gone forever.”
“Do not say that, I beg of you. Have you not heard it said that ‘nothing is lost’?”
Once more the raindrops visited the garden, and the fairies worked all day long and all night long before everything was done.
“It is so refreshing when the garden has been washed clean again of its dust.”
“See,” cried one. “See our bank this morning.”
“It is covered with a carpet of purple! Come, let us look closer,” called another.
“It is the colour! It is the colour!” said the Artist Fairy, as she hastened toward the bank. “Nothing is lost,” she added, softly as she looked closer. For purple violets had been born that morning while the raindrops fell.
God does not send us strange flowers every year.