That lovely spray of little pink roses you are holding is called 'Dorothy Perkins.' You will remember that, won't you?
And this deep orange-tinted bud is 'William Allen Richardson.'" "'William Allen Richardson,'" repeated Jessie.

"I think Miss Perkins is much prettier than Mr.Richardson." Miss Grace laughed.

"You are a very polite little girl, Jessie.
Look at this one; this is called 'Homer,' but you need not call it Mr.or Mrs., but just plain 'Homer.'" "I think it ought to be called 'pretty Homer,'" said Jessie, smiling.
By the time they had arranged all the flowers in the basket, she knew quite a lot about the different kinds and their names.

Miss Grace made everything so attractive, and it was wonderful what a lot of interesting things she saw as she went about, even when she walked only across the green to Mrs.Parker's to leave the flowers.
Jessie did not see the poor dirty grey toad lying panting and frightened on the pathway, but Miss Grace did, and stooped and picked the poor thing up, and carrying it into her garden, placed it in a nice cool shady corner, underneath some bushes.
"Won't it bite you, or sting ?" asked Jessie, her eyes wide with alarm, but Miss Grace reassured her.

"That poor gentle little frightened thing hurt me!" she cried; "it could not if it wanted to, and I am sure it does not want to.