“Yes, indeed,” said Miss Fletcher, pleased. “It rolls very easily. Give Flossie your doll, too, and we’ll all go and see the lily bud.”
Hazel obeyed, and carefully pushing the light chair, they moved slowly toward the spot where the white chalices of the garden lilies poured forth their incense.
“Miss Fletcher,” cried Hazel excitedly, dropping on her knees beside the bed, “that is going to be the most beautiful of all. When it is perfectly open the plant will be ready to take to the king.” The little girl lifted her shoulders and looked up at her hostess, smiling.
“What king is going to get my lily?”
“The one who will send you on your quest.”
“What am I to go in quest of?” inquired Miss Fletcher, much entertained.
“I don’t know;” Hazel shook her head. “Every one’s errand is different.”
“What is a quest?” asked Flossie.
“You tell her, Hazel.”
“Why, mother says it’s a search for some treasure.”
“You must tell us this story about the quest flower some day,” said Miss Fletcher.
“I have the story of it here,” returned Hazel eagerly. “I’ve read it over and over again because I love it, and so mother put it in my trunk with my Christian Science books. I can bring it over and read it to you, if you want me to. You’d like it, I know, Miss Fletcher.”
“Aunt Hazel told me you were a Christian Scientist,” said Flossie. “I never saw one before, but people have talked to mother about it.”
“I could bring those books over, too,” replied Hazel wistfully, “and we could read the lesson every day, and perhaps it would make you feel better.”
“I don’t know what it’s about,” said Flossie.
“It’s about making sick people well and sinful people good.”
“I’m sinful, too, part of the time,” answered Flossie. “Sometimes I don’t like to live, and I wish I didn’t have to, and everybody says that’s sinful.”
Sudden tears started to Miss Fletcher’s eyes, and as the little girls were looking at one another absorbedly, Hazel standing close to the wheeled chair, she stole away, unobserved, to the house.
“She ought to be cured,” she said to herself excitedly. “She ought to be cured. There’s that one more chance, anyway. I’ve got to where I’m ready to let the babes and sucklings have a try!”
THE QUEST FLOWER (Continued)
The next morning was rainy, and Jewel and her grandfather visited the stable instead of taking their canter.
“And what will you do this dismal day?” asked the broker of his daughter-in-law as they stood alone for a minute after breakfast, Jewel having run upstairs to get Anna Belle for the drive to the station.
“This happy day,” she answered, lifting to him the radiant face that he was always mentally contrasting with Madge. “The rain will give me a chance to look at the many treasures you have here, books and pictures.”