“No, I am not. I am freezing, and these cold clods are mashing me. I wish I was back in the paper though we were crowded on top of each other.”
“But you could not grow there.”
“No, but I could be more comfortable. If it takes these old black clods to make me grow I don’t know that I want to grow,” and she gave a sniff to show her contempt.
“Stop! You don’t realize what you are saying! You are near committing the unpardonable sin. Do you remember your promise to Mother Nature as she placed within your bosom the sacred germ of life? That promise which you gave to grow, at the first opportunity, and to do all within your power to become strong and vigorous, producing seeds in which she could place like germs. Then have you forgotten your dying mother’s request that you live up to this solemn promise?”
Seed number One did not reply, but gave a little rebellious grunt to show her state of feelings and remained silent.
This was a great relief to the other seeds, who were enduring the discomforts of their new and chilly environments with as much fortitude as possible, hoping and believing that their new home would yet become more comfortable. Finally all became quiet and they shut their eyes and waited and dreamed.
The cold, dark night was at last over. The seeds in their little dark chambers could not see this, but they knew it was so when they felt the warm influence of the sunbeams as it crept stealthily down through the damp soil and warmed their cold, wet wrappings. Oh, how it did revive them! They grew larger as they tried to express their thankfulness. The quickening power within pictured to them bright sunshine, refreshing showers and warm, balmy nights. But there they lay helpless in the dark, waiting and dreaming and dimly feeling that—
Instinct within that reaches and towers
And, groping blindly above for light,
Climbs to a soul in grass and flowers.