He opened the door, and passed through the little belt of shrubbery.

Not a flower was to be seen in the beds on the lawn.

Even the brave old chrysanthemums and Christmas roses had passed away before the frost.

What?
Yes! There was one! He ran and knelt down to look at it.
It was a primrose--a dwarfish thing, but perfect in shape--a baby-wonder.

As he stooped his face to see it close, a little wind began to blow, and two or three long leaves that stood up behind the flower shook and waved and quivered, but the primrose lay still in the green hollow, looking up at the sky, and not seeming to know that the wind was blowing at all.