Chapter I: The Red Plant

"OH, what lovely flowers!" exclaimed Florry, stopping to look at a group of house plants which were standing on the lawn. There were camellias, geraniums, heaths, and various plants noted for beautiful blossoms or ornamental foliage. They were all in the best order, for Mrs. Hausen kept an excellent gardener; and little Flora, who loved flowers as well as the heathen goddess for whom she was named, could hardly tear herself away from them. Her mother had sent her to Mrs. Hausen's to borrow a pattern, and Florry knew that she was in a hurry for it, yet she stood looking at the flowers for full five minutes. Then she seemed to recollect herself, sighed deeply, and walked on towards the house with a very sad, not to say discontented, face.

"I don't see any sense in it," she was saying to herself. "My father and mother are just as good people as Mr. and Mrs. Hausen; and I am sure I am quite as good a girl as Emma Hausen is: I am better than she is, because I always learn my lessons, and never whisper in church or in school; and Emma does both. I saw her whisper in church last Sunday. And yet they have this fine place, and a greenhouse and carriage, and everything; and we must just live in a poky little place, where we can't have a single flower. It is too bad!"

Mr. Hausen's was indeed a beautiful place. There was a wide lawn, always shaved and watered till it was as smooth as velvet; and this lawn was planted with rare shrubs, and variegated with beds of brilliant verbenas, geraniums, and other flowers, while here and there, just where they looked prettiest, were garden seats, and vases and stands filled with rare plants or overrun with beautiful vines. The house itself was a very fine one, and from it there was a view of the lake, and the green fields and pastures of Mr. Hausen's great farm.

It was quite a walk from the gate to the house; but Flora reached it at last, and having rung the bell, she stood in the stone porch, looking out over the lake and watching the steamer which was just coming up.

"It is too bad," she said to herself; "they have everything, and we have nothing."

Mrs. Hausen was not at home, but she had left the patterns rolled up and ready for Mrs. Lester, if she should send for them; for she was a very thoughtful woman, and never forgot a promise.

"You are Mrs. Lester's little girl, I suppose," said the woman who handed her the patterns.

"Yes, ma'am," answered Flora.

"Well, here are your patterns all ready, you see. You can walk around and look at the flowers, if you like; but don't touch anything."

"Thank you, ma'am," said Flora, but in her heart she thought, "She had no business to say that to me. Just as if I would touch anything: as if I were a thief."

Florry looked at one flower-bed and then at another, till she came to a stand which was placed, as it seemed, quite out of sight of every one, behind a thicket of flowering shrubs. It contained three or four plants; one of which was a beautiful red plant or Coleus, as it is called by florists. It was indeed a beautiful thing—as pretty as any flower, Florry thought, with its soft, velvety, crimson leaves, each edged with gold colour. Florry looked long at it, and the more she looked at it, the more she wanted it. The plant was a small one and in a small pot.

"I don't believe but that Mrs. Hausen would give it to me, if she were here," she said to herself, taking the plant in her hand and holding it up to the sun to see how beautiful the leaves were. "She does give away a great many flowers, I know. I saw Mr. Crampton carry a whole basketful down to old Mrs. Miles; and I am sure Mrs. Hausen would give me one little plant as soon as she would give that cross old woman a dozen nice large geraniums. And Emma is always bringing flowers to Miss Garland and Miss Van Ness at school. If Emma were here, she would give it to me in a minute, I know."

It is not very hard to see to what all this reasoning was leading. Florry had been very indignant at Mrs. Crampton for telling her not to touch anything. Nevertheless, she lifted the red plant from its place once more, and slipping it into her basket, where there was plenty of room for it, she hurried home as fast as she could go. It was quite a long walk, for Mr. Hausen lived nearly a mile from the village, and at every step Florry's basket seemed to grow heavier. She was already sorry that she had taken the red plant, and she would have given a great deal to have had it safely in its place once more, but she had lingered too long already, and dared not go back. Besides, somebody might see her—Mr. Hausen himself, very likely—and then what should she say or do? And what should she say to her mother? She would be sure to ask the history of the plant, and what could Florry say? She would have to tell a lie, and say that Mrs. Hausen gave it to her.

Now Flora Lester, though she had given way to a strong temptation, and taken what did not belong to her, was not in general a naughty child. On the contrary, she was usually a very good girl, and she had been brought up with a great horror of telling lies. Parents, teachers, and playmates all believed Florry when she said anything; and if Miss Van Ness wanted a true and impartial account of any trouble in playground or school-room, Florry was always called upon; and the other girls were quite satisfied in general that she should be their spokesman. The idea of telling a deliberate lie to hide her fault sent a cold pain through the little girl's heart; and now, for the first time, she realized what she had done.

"I am a thief," she said to herself. "Yes, I am a thief. I have stolen other people's goods. The plant belonged to Mrs. Hausen, and I had no business to touch it."

"But she has so many other flowers and plants, that she will never miss it," said the tempter, at Florry's ear. "She is very rich and has a great many pleasures, and you are poor and have very few. You have not done her any harm. Besides, you must go on, now that you have begun. Your mother will be very angry, or still worse, she will be very sorry, and she has a great many troubles already. It will be a great deal better to say that Mrs. Hausen gave it to you."

Florry listened to the tempter, but she did not quite make up her mind to yield. She thought she would make a compromise. So she hid the red plant among some bushes which grew close to the fence, and went into the house to carry the pattern to her mother.

"You have been gone a long time, my daughter," said Mrs. Lester. "Did you stop to play with Emma Hausen?"

"No, mother. Emma was not at home. I stood a little while in the porch watching the steamer come up, and then Mrs. Crampton said I might walk round and look at the flowers and plants, so I did. I am sorry I hindered you."

"Oh, it is no great matter," answered Mrs. Lester, kindly. "I could hardly expect you to leave such a paradise of flowers as Mrs. Hausen's garden without lingering a little. I suppose the grounds are looking beautifully after the rain."

At another time, Florry would have talked to her mother for an hour, about all the wonders she had seen; but she did not feel at all like doing so now. She would have liked to forget all about the matter, if that had been possible. She answered, rather carelessly:

"Oh, yes, very pretty indeed. Every thing is just as neat as wax. I should think the leaves did not fall off their trees, as they do off ours; for nobody ever sees one lying on the ground."

"Mr. Crampton is an excellent gardener," said Mrs. Lester; "and he has nothing else to do but to attend to the grounds, and keep things in order. Now do you want to set the tea-table, or are you too tired with your walk?"

"No, mother, I am not tired at all; but where is Mary?"

"She has gone across the lake to see her grandmother. The old lady is not very well, and they sent for her; but she is coming back to-night. But you can do as you like about setting the table. It will not hurt me to move about a little."

"Then, mother, why don't you go down and meet father?" asked Florry, who was an unselfish little thing, especially where her mother was concerned. "The walk and the fresh air will you do good; and it is a beautiful evening. Do, mother, please, and I will make the fire and set the table, and have everything ready when you come. Do, mother."

"Very well," said Mrs. Lester, smiling, and kissing Florry. "You will do it very nicely; and you may make some coffee instead of tea, if you choose, for a surprise to father."

Mrs. Lester put away her work and went down to the ferry to meet her husband, who had been over to the other side of the lake on business; and Florry set about getting supper ready. At another time, she would have enjoyed the bustle of making the fire, drawing water, and grinding the coffee; for she was a clever little housewife for a girl of her age, and loved to help everybody; but now everything seemed to go wrong. The fire would not burn, the handle came off the coffee-mill; and, at last, as she was drawing some water for the tea-table, the windlass of the well slipped from her hand, flew round and, hitting her in the breast, almost knocked her down, and hurt her so that she burst out crying. At that moment, her mother came in at the back door, and seeing the accident ran to Florry's relief.

"My poor little girl! I am afraid you have hurt yourself very badly. There, don't cry, but tell mother where it hit you. You should not have tried to draw up the bucket full of water. It was too heavy for you."

"Florry is so ambitious, she is always going beyond her strength," remarked Mary, who had also just come in. "If she had only as much strength as spunk, there isn't nothing she wouldn't do. I was telling Ciss this afternoon, 'If you would only take pattern by our Florry,' says I, 'you wouldn't leave ma to do everything.'"

"Mary wouldn't say that, if she knew," thought Florry. She stopped crying as soon as she could, and told her mother she was not much hurt.

"It was only that it startled me so. I didn't know what had happened. The supper is all ready, mother—the coffee is made, and all. Oh, what beautiful apricots!" she exclaimed, as she entered the dining-room, and saw on the table a pretty little basket piled up with large and fine apricots. "Where aid they come from, mother?"

"Mr. Hausen gave them to father," replied Mrs. Lester. "They came from his place over on the other side. Are they not fine ones?"

"The Hausens are just the kind of folks who ought to be rich," remarked Mary. "They seem to think their nice things are only given them to share with other people. The old lady, Mr. Hausen's mother, is just so. Does Emma take after the rest of them?"

"Oh, yes: she would give away her head, if it were loose," answered Florry, rather slightingly. "She is always in trouble with Miss Van Ness for lending her pencils and pens in school, and for telling in class. Miss Van Ness scolded her for giving away her paper to Lavinia Stephens, only yesterday."

"I dare say Lavinia don't do so."

"Not she. I don't believe she has had a piece of rubber or a knife of her own since she first came into the drawing-class. She just lives on the other girls; and now, Miss Van Ness has forbidden the girls to lend her anything at all. But please, Mary, do take up the coffee; I am sure it is boiled enough."

The coffee was very nice, and so was everything else; and her father had a very interesting story to tell her about Mr. Nye's Burmese cats, which had been brought home by his sailor son; but Florry could think of nothing, and care for nothing, but that unlucky red plant down behind the bushes in the front yard. Mr. Hausen's beautiful apricots seemed to choke her, and she could hardly eat one of them.

"Oh, what a fool, what a wicked fool I have been!" she said to herself. "How could I do such a thing?"

Mrs. Lester noticed how pale and silent Florry was:

"I am afraid you have hurt yourself worse than you thought," said she. "Does your breast pain you?"

"A little, mother; and my head aches."

"You had better go to bed early, and have a good long rest," said her father. "Are you sure you don't have too much to do in school, daughter? I am afraid those drawing-lessons are the feather which is going to break the camel's back."

"Oh, no, father; they don't hurt me at all, I am sure," replied Florry. "I walked pretty fast home from Mrs. Hausen's; and then getting hurt and all—"

"Well, never mind," said her mother, seeing that the tears were very near Florry's eyes. "I dare say it will be all right in the morning, after you have had a good long sleep. Don't you want a cup of coffee, for once?"

"Please, mother," answered Florry, feeling all the time as if every word and act of kindness added to her burden. She drank her coffee without tasting it, and then went out into the yard, and sat down on the door-step, with her head in her hands, thinking.

"I know what I will do," said she, at last: "I will carry the plant back to-morrow, and put it in its place; and if any one sees me, I will just tell the truth about it—so there!"

Florry seemed to breathe more freely after coming to this conclusion. She rose and went to the place where she had hidden the red plant. It was gone!