Little Emily gathered the spray of golden bells very carefully, to carry it home to mother, who was not well enough to walk in the woodland and see it where it grew; and all that day and the next, the sweetness of the delicate flowers filled the room and seemed to speak of love and hope and cheer.
"They bring the sunshine and springtime right here to me," the little girl's mother said, looking lovingly at Emily. "They are like a small lassie I know, who helps to brighten all the dark places in my life."
Emily looked questioningly at her mother. "What does that mean, mamma?" she asked. And grandmother, who was standing by, said, with a smile:
"You thought the jasmine bells, shining in the dark wood, were a gleam of sunshine, dear, brightening up the gloom. There are sometimes dark places in our lives, you know; mother is having one just now, while she is not well enough to go out herself into the sunshine. And her little daughter, by being sweet and cheery, is just such a gleam of sunshine to her as the jasmine bells were to the dark pine woods."
Little Emily leaned over her mother for a kiss, then turned to touch caressingly the golden bells of the jasmine.
"Dear little sunshine flowers," she said, lovingly. "I'll try to remember you every day, and be a sunshine maker, too."
The more one controls his temper, the less will it control him.