“Ugly!” Mollie repeated in surprise.
“I think it is beautiful, just like a picture
in Colour. What is she doing?”
The child looked up at that moment and smiled at them.
“Hullo, Mollie,” she said in a friendly
tone, as if she were quite well acquainted with the
new arrival, “come and see my dandelion-chain;
it’s nearly done.”
Prudence jumped the flower-bed, followed by Mollie
and the dog, and all three made their way through
the thickly growing dandelions, and seated themselves
beside Grizzel. She had filled her lap with dandelions,
and was busily occupied in linking them together as
English children link a daisy-chain.
“What are you doing?” Mollie asked again,
as her eyes followed Grizzel’s chain, and she
observed that it stretched far away out of sight among
the trees and bushes.
“I am laying a chain right round the garden,”
Grizzel replied. “When it is finished it
will be the longest dandelion-chain in the world.”
“What are you going to do with it?” asked
Mollie.
“Nothing,” answered Grizzel.
“Then what’s the good of making it?”
asked Mollie.
“It isn’t meant to be any good,”
answered Grizzel, “it’s only meant to
be the longest dandelion-chain in the world.”
“But there’s nothing beautiful about longness,”
persisted Mollie. “You wouldn’t like
to have the longest nose in the world.”
“It would be rather nice,” said Grizzel,
working as steadily as the Princess in Hans Andersen’s
tale of the “White Swans”, “then
I could smell all the delicious smells there are.
Mamma says a primrose-patch in an English wood is
delicious.”
“Don’t waste your breath trying to make
Grizzel change her mind,” Prudence interposed.
“Papa says you might as well explain to a pigling
which way you want it to go. Let’s help
with her chain and get it finished. I’m
tired of it.” She threw a handful of yellow
bloom into Mollie’s lap as she spoke, and began
herself to link some stalks together in a somewhat
dreamy and lazy fashion. Mollie followed her
example more briskly.
“It’s a pity, you know,” she said
to Grizzel, “to leave the poor little flowers
withering all round the garden when they might have
gone on growing for days. They will soon be faded
and forgotten.”
“I’d rather fade in the longest chain
in the world than be one of a million dandelions growing
on their roots,” Grizzel said, pulling a fresh
handful and shifting her chain to make room for them.
Mollie shook her head but did not argue any more.
She dropped her chain and looked round the garden.
Although the sun was so warm and bright the flowers
were those which grow in springtime in England.
Daffodils, narcissus, freesias, and violets grew thickly
in the borders and under the trees, which seemed to
be mostly fruit-trees, though Mollie did not recognize
them all. Peach and apricot were in bloom; fig
trees and mulberry trees spread out their broad leaves;
and an immense vividly scarlet geranium dazzled even
Mollie’s modern eyes. It was a funny mixture
of seasons, she thought.
