Here were roses of every sort, blushing and paling, glowing in gold and mantling in crimson.

And the carnations showed their delicate fringes, and the geraniums blazed, and the heliotrope languished, and the "Puritan pansies" lifted their sweet faces and looked gravely about, as if reproving the other flowers for their frivolity; while shy Mignonette, thinking herself well hidden behind her green leaves, still made her presence known by the exquisite perfume which all her gay sisters would have been glad to borrow.
Over all went the sunbeams, rollicking and playing; and through all went Hildegarde, her heart filled with a new delight, feeling as if she had never lived before.

She talked to the flowers.

She bent and kissed the damask rose, which was too beautiful to pluck.

She put her cheek against a lily's satin-silver petals, and started when an angry bee flew out and buzzed against her nose.