MIGNONETTE AND CHRYSANTHEMUM.
Norma was out-of-doors before the others, the morning after completing
the bird houses and selected suitable spots for the two large houses
to be placed. The smaller ones belonged exclusively to the scouts and
their locations would have to be decided upon by them.
Sam came from the kitchen door, yawning and stretching as he came.
When he found Norma already up and busy, going about the back yard, he
hurried over to see if he could help in any way.
“Yes, you can, Sam. I made that lovely bird house last night but I
need you to saw off that old clothes pole, square across the top, so
we can nail the house on it and brace it firmly with a few wooden
supports from underneath. Can you cut it across squarely?”
“Sure, ’cause dat ain’t nuttin’ to do!” declared Sam, going for the
hammer and saw.
Norma carried out the short ladder and placed it against the post, and
when Sam came with the tools, he climbed up to the second from the top
rung and began to look sideways at the top of the pole, while
squinting scientifically to measure its diameter.
Norma watched patiently for a few moments, then she said: “Why, Sam!
You don’t have to do any measuring or marking to get your right line.
Just saw through that cove that runs around the post where the fancy
acorn top begins. That’s true enough to guide anyone.”
“Dat’s so, Norma! I didn’t never think of dat way,” admitted Sam,
grinning at his lack of judgment.
Norma handed him the saw and Sam began to work it across the post. He
had to lift his right arm even with his eyes, to saw in the groove
made by the turning mill when the post was made, and this made the
work the harder for him.
Norma stood below watching as the saw began to bite into the old wood.
Sam sawed and sawed, and was halfway through the pole when Norma went
to the other side to see how much more he had to do.
“Oh, Sam! You’re way off the groove on this side of the post!”
exclaimed she anxiously.
“It look straight enough from dis side,” argued Sam.
“Get down and look for yourself! Your saw runs up more than an inch on
the back of the post.”
So Sam climbed down and joined Norma at the back of the pole. He had
left his saw sticking in the cleft so he could better judge where his
mistake was being made. He found matters as Norma had said, but he
couldn’t see what did it. He scratched his head for an intelligent
explanation to shine forth, but none came.
“I tell you what I got to do!” he declared, going over and taking the
ladder from that side and moving it to the side where the cleft ran an
inch above the groove. “I got’ta saw from dis side, now—see?”
He now began sawing the post from “this side,” as he said, and again
he sawed and sawed, with might and main, until his face was streaming
and his breath came in short gasps with the effort.
Norma waited and when he was almost halfway through from “this side”
she went back to the first side to see if he was almost meeting the
first cleft.
“Oh, Sam! Now you’ve gone and sawed an inch above the _old_ line and
they’ll never meet!” cried Norma anxiously.
Again Sam got down and walked around to eye his work from Norma’s
position, and then he scratched his head again. This time he frowned
heavily at the problem to be solved.
“Now, I don’t see how dat saw got so high when I was so careful to
keep it going in the groove around the post,” said he.
“Well, I don’t see, either, especially as I _asked_ you to saw it
_square_ across, before you started,” complained Norma.
“I know you did, but askin’ ain’t cuttin’, you see.”
“It looks so simple, Sam—just saw along that little gutter made in the
pole! That would bring the top off and leave the post nice and flat on
top. As it now is, the top won’t come off and no bird house will sit
on a slant.”
“It _do_ look simple, Norma, I’ll tell the worl’, but it can’t be so
simple as it looks, or I could do it!” declared Sam.
Mrs. James joined them by this time, and wanted to know what was
wrong. Why did Sam seem so troubled so early in the day?
The problem was explained but Norma admitted that they found no
solution for it. Mrs. James told Sam to get up on the ladder again and
show her how he had sawed.
Sam demonstrated his recent method of sawing, and Mrs. James began
laughing. Norma frowned at her uncalled-for mirth, and Sam climbed
from the ladder and stood gazing at her for an explanation.
“Don’t you see what you have done to cause the saw to run uphill at
the back of the post?”
“No, I don’t! I tried hard to cut in the groove.”
“Well, first place, you stood below the line you had to cut through.
You had to lift your arm above your shoulder, and that in itself would
tend to draw the saw downward in front, because your arm works back
and forth and does not keep its same position of height. It generally
falls downward as the arm works backward—watch me, and you will see.”
Then Mrs. James sawed slowly and showed both Sam and Norma how easy
and unconsciously the tendency was to have the arm drop from its level
as it worked backward.
“Another thing is, your saw cut in the groove at the front where you
faced it, but the tough chestnut wood turned the thin edge of the saw
upward because of the slight downward tendency of your arm, as you
drew the elbow back and forth. That was enough to start the saw
glancing upward, and when you reached the center of the pole, you
found you were fully an inch out of the way.
“Then you started to saw on this side of the post, but you made the
same mistake as before. Had you stood upon the top rung of the ladder,
or used a higher ladder so you could saw the knob of the pole from a
stand even with your waist line, you would have found it much easier
to cut.”
“Well, now it’s all crooked, what can we do?” asked Norma.
“Sam can bring out the high step-ladder that we used to rescue Natalie
from the cherry tree, and stand on that. Then he can stand on a step
so he will be _above_ the groove he has to cut. He can start sawing
from a third side of the pole, so the other two clefts will not
interfere with his straight across cut.”
Sam went for the step-ladder and Mrs. James waited to see that he was
properly started on the work this time, then she went into breakfast.
The girls were talking over the council meeting Miss Mason had invited
them to attend that morning, and Frances said she would drive to Four
Corners, directly after breakfast, to ask the three girls, and bring
them back to go with the house scouts.
“At the same time, ask Mrs. Tompkins if she can come, too, as we want
her to give us a little talk on flowers, bees and birds,” said Mrs.
James.
“Oh, can I go with you, Frans?” asked Norma eagerly when she heard her
friend was invited to join the meeting at camp.
“Of course, if you are ready when I am. I don’t want to wait around
for nothing, while you plant a few more dry sticks in the garden,”
giggled Frances, winking at the other girls.
But Norma was ready before Frances this time, and had time to direct
Sam how to nail the cheese box bird house on the post. The top was
squared to suit and the house had been brought from the cellar to try
on top of the post and see how it looked.
“You can go with Frances, Norma, and we’ll see that the house goes up
all right,” promised Mrs. James when she saw the anxiety expressed by
Norma.
When they neared Four Corners, Norma said to Frances: “You can drop me
at the store so I can see Mrs. Tompkins while you go for Dot Ames and
Nancy Sherman. Then you can pick us up on your way back.”
It was not yet nine o’clock and Mrs. Tompkins was in her garden
attending to the early duties of a systematic florist, when Norma ran
out and joined her. She had no difficulty in winning Mrs. Tompkins’
consent to attend a council meeting and tell the scouts some things
about flowers and birds and bees. Then Norma told her about the fine
bird house she had made of the cheese box and how Sam tried to square
off the old clothes pole.
Mrs. Tompkins laughed at the description Norma gave and then said:
“It’s too bad the houses were not up early in the spring. You’d have
them full of song birds now. But they’ll be ready for next year,
anyway.”
“Will the birds find enough to eat around the house and gardens,
without flying too far away for food?” asked Norma anxiously.
“They will if you plant the right kind of growing things. Natalie, for
instance, must plant some grain along the fence line on the meadow
side. That will not interfere with any flowers you have there.”
“Mrs. James and I were planning about that ugly fence and the strip of
garden, just yesterday. We have it all cleared out and manured, ready
to use now.”
“What did you plan to use there?” asked Mrs. Tompkins.
“We are going to plant the vines as soon as they come up from the
seeds you gave me, all along the fence line. Then I want the
old-fashioned border plants all along the edge of the ground where the
drive joins it, and in the center of the long bed we expected to plant
geraniums. All geraniums—to make it look like something that was meant
to be.”
“But you did not plan to plant them all the way from the road to the
woodland, did you?” was Mrs. Tompkins’s amazed question.
“Oh, no! only from the street down to the line where the vegetable
garden begins. From there on to the stream, we thought we could plant
sunflowers, hollyhocks, dahlias and other tall-growing flowers.”
“Well, now listen to what I would do with that strip, if it was mine:
“I’d get Sam to work at the digging, while you girls can help with the
packing of the earth about the roots, and the careful lifting and
removal of the trees and shrubs growing in your woodland. Then watch
while they are being wheeled up to the garden strip where a deep hole
has been made ready to receive them—one by one.
“Start with a young mulberry tree, if possible, for that fruit is the
most attractive for birds of all kinds. And bees like to hover about
mulberry blossoms, too, and get their nectar there. In my opinion, a
mulberry tree is a necessity if one wants to keep birds and bees
happy.
“Besides the mulberry tree—or three or four of them, if you can find
them of a size easy to remove from the woods—take the elderberry
bushes, the choke-cherry, dogwood trees, wild black cherry and other
kinds that not only blossom profusely but bear fruit that the birds
like.
“All these trees and shrubs or bushes can be planted at intervals
along that garden strip by the fence. Then, in between those high
bushes and trees, you can plant the geraniums. The low border flowers
can run all along without a break and the vines at the back where the
old fence is, can also cover that, but your gay geraniums will look
all the gayer and prettier for having the green bushes and trees break
the monotonous streak of color.”
“That’s splendid advice, Mrs. Tompkins, and I only hope we can find
such trees and bushes.”
“That is the easiest part of the work, Norma, because the woodland
down by the stream, is full of just such berry bushes and fruit trees.
That is one reason the woods, there, is so full of wild song birds.
And they will move up nearer the house if they find plenty of food and
good lodgings.”
“Dear me! I wish to goodness we had been on the farm in time to do all
this work before the birds came from the South!” sighed Norma.
“It will be ready for them next year, at least. Even if these bushes
and trees die off, you can easily replace them with others in the late
fall or early spring. To group them judiciously and know where they
belong, is an important work that can be done now while they are in
full leaf and will show how they look.”
“It seems a pity to transplant the poor things just to show us how
they look, and then have them die,” remarked Norma.
“If the soil about the roots is carefully dug and packed on the
outside with straw or strips of burlap to keep it from falling off,
there is no reason why the bushes and trees should fade or die. The
main thing to do is to keep their native soil about the roots, and to
disturb the roots as little as possible. This can be done by digging a
wide enough circle about the trunk, and by having a large enough hole
where it is to go in. I think it is a waste of money to buy fancy
shrubs and decorative bushes, or trees, for the lawn or garden,
because one can find any kind one needs right in the woods.”
“The reason I mentioned sun flowers along the fence-line, Mrs.
Tompkins, I knew the birds loved to eat their seeds, and they grow
rapidly in any soil without any attention, too.”
“Yes, sun flowers are magnets for the birds, but so are bitter sweet
and clematis, and you know how lovely they would look on a trellis or
growing up the side porch. You can find bitter sweet along the roads
in the countryside, and wild clematis, too. Then you can buy a trumpet
vine, and honeysuckle and Virginia creepers from a florist and have
them well grown by next year. If I were in Janet’s place, I’d hide the
ugly old barn and sheds with rows of sun flowers and castor oil bean
plants. Then I’d train all sorts of vines up the sides of the
buildings until the place was a thing of beauty instead of what it is
today.”
“I’ll tell Janet what you said and let her come and take a few lessons
from you, as I am doing,” laughed Norma.
“If it’s birds you girls want to coax to live about the house, you
can’t have too many fruit or seed-bearing plants around.”
“It’s a pity the geraniums have no sweet perfume because it seems a
waste of space to plant them just for their looks,” said Norma, as
Mrs. Tompkins went to the mirror to pin on her hat.
“You’ll find anyone who harbors envy is seldom sweet or lovable, and
geraniums mean ‘envy’ in the directory of flowers.”
“Really! I never knew that flowers meant anything excepting perfume
and beauty,” exclaimed Norma, deeply interested.
“Oh, yes! Every flower has a meaning and many of them have very
interesting legends connected with their history.”
“Oh, if you would tell us some of those legends at the scout council
today how we would appreciate it!”
“I will, if you wish it. I will not only give the scouts a talk on
flowers, but I will add a dessert after the heavy meal, to please the
guests who will sit about my table of flowers,” laughed Mrs. Tompkins.
“But they must agree not to feel offended if I tell them their flower
for their natal day and give its meaning. It may not always please,
you know.”
“How did you learn all these things, Mrs. Tompkins?”
Norma’s hostess laughed. “You did not think that I could spend so many
years with my flowers without finding out some of the stories that
belong to them, did you? One who grows vegetables tries to discover
all that can be said about them; and a bird fancier, or one who
studies forestry, or bees, or insects, learns their history first; the
legends and tales that belong to almost everything on earth, are read
or heard, and found interesting to the fancier.”
“If there is a flower for every natal day, tell me what mine is?” said
Norma eagerly, mentioning the date of her birth.
“Yours is the mignonette and it means ‘loveliness.’ Not because of the
beauty of form or coloring, but because of its character and
qualities. It is a constant bloomer and its perfume is so freely and
generously sent forth that all may inhale and enjoy.
“In the Orient where this little flower originally came from, it is
called ‘resada’ because the Orientals claim that if one stoops to
inhale its fragrance as it grows upon its lowly stem it has the power
to soothe any pain and drive away most sorrows.
“I never judge loveliness from looks, Norma, but from qualities. I
know some folks who are so homely that the first time I met them I was
sorry for them. But I soon grew to appreciate the wonderful
characteristics which made them quite lovely to me. And I also have
met people quite the reverse of this desirable kind.”
“What is your natal flower, Mrs. Tompkins?” questioned Norma.
Mrs. Tompkins glanced at a large garden of healthy green plants, which
as yet were merely stems and foliage. Then she said sadly: “Before I
lost my boy, I used to take the greatest pleasure and pride in my
chrysanthemums, because we worked together and produced some
remarkable specimen. Robert and I won several prizes in the New York
Flower Show with our unusual chrysanthemums. But now, I just let them
grow as I do the rest of the flowers. No one takes the joy and
pleasure in my gardens since Robert was killed.”
Norma felt the moisture coming into her eyes for this sad mother, for
she had heard from Hester, how her only brother had met his death in
France during the first year of America’s war with Germany. So she
could say nothing, but she waited patiently.
“I was born in October, the month of the chrysanthemum. And I was
named Chrystine, too. I always admired the lovely large Oriental
flowers, even before I knew they were my birth flowers. Then, when I
succeeded with so many other flowers, I began to try to succeed with
the imperial flowers of China. You know, do you not, that the
chrysanthemum is a native of China, and not of Japan, as so many
people believe?”
“No, I did not know. I, too, thought it was a Japanese native flower,”
answered Norma.
“In the year 246 B. C. China was ruled by a very cruel Emperor who
feared nothing but death. But he was in such constant dread of the
spectre that he ordered his physicians to spare no cost and time or
lives to search for the elixir of life which he had been told was kept
in a secret place.
“A clever young physician, who bore the Emperor no love, perfected a
scheme, and then called at the palace. He told the Emperor that a rare
flower grew on an island far out at sea, but no one had ever been able
to gather it, as it faded instantly and died, if any hand polluted by
any form of sin, touched it or its plant.
“Then the young man said he would suggest that a number of pure young
men and as many virgins be found and ordered to accompany him in a
boat to sail for this island. There the purest of them all would be
made to gather this flower and bring it to the Emperor who would then
live forever.
“The physician was fitted out with a vessel and everything needed for
a long voyage and the maidens and young men were found to go with him.
Then the foolish Emperor sighed and waited eagerly for the flower of
life. But nothing was heard of the party for a long time, then when
the Emperor was dead, the news reached China that the voyagers reached
Japan safely and colonized a state with their pure and healthy young
people. This is why the Japanese claim they come of finer stock and
more intelligent natures than other ancient races of the world.”
“How interesting it is,” ventured Norma, in a whisper so as not to
distract the speaker. “And was that flower the chrysanthemum?”
“Yes, but that is not the legend I meant to tell you when I began. The
pink chrysanthemum means ‘Love’; the white one means ‘Truth’; and the
yellow one means ‘Life’—and all three of them, Love, Truth and Life,
mean Robert to me now, because they stand for the second coming of
Christ, and at that resurrection all who have died in the Lord shall
live in Him again, also. But to understand why this is so, I must tell
you the story of the flower.
“You probably know that the twenty-fifth of December is not really the
birthday of Jesus, but that the real date is some time in the latter
part of October. The December date was set apart by the Romans at the
revision of our present Calendar. So the chrysanthemum was the natal
flower of our Lord.
“When the Wise Men sought for the young child, they saw a great golden
star shining in the sky, and this they followed until they came to
Bethlehem of Judea. It had led them over rugged hills and through
shadowy vales, and finally descended before their eyes to rest upon
the lintel of the stable where the Babe was born.
“As the Wise Men stooped to enter the door, the starry flower fell
into the hand of the first one to pass within. When the wondering man
saw that the blossom was of pure gold and gave forth such a marvelous
perfume, he knew it to be from heaven. So he gave it into the tiny
hand of the Prince of Peace.
“The Child held the beautiful blossom aloft as if it was a sceptre,
then slowly the petals unfolded and the heavenly star bowed low before
the King of Kings. And to this day you will see the petals of the
golden chrysanthemum curl meekly, as they bowed that night before the
Saviour.
“But a sigh from the Virgin suddenly wafted the petals away and they
found their places in the midnight sky again. There they radiated
brightness and glory upon all the world and all who would could follow
the pointing of the petals and seek and find the Christ. And so to
this day the shining golden petals in the night sky point the way to
their Lord and King, Christ Jesus.”
“Oh, what a beautiful story, Mrs. Tompkins! I wish you would tell that
legend to the scouts.”
“I couldn’t my dear child. I will tell them others, but not this one,
as I feel a reverence for all that belongs to Christ, since Robert
rose from our sight. I told you because I feel there is the same
affinity between you and me as there was between Robert and me, linked
together because of our mutual love for flowers.”
At this moment, the merry shouts of the girls in the car, interrupted
further conversation and Mrs. Tompkins started for the door. But Norma
caught her hand and whispered: “I’ll not call you Mrs. Tompkins,
hereafter—you shall be chrysanthemum to me, because you truly are a
shining light in the firmament.”
The woman with the thin refined face, and grey hair held both soft
girlish hands in her hardened ones and smiled sadly: “And you shall be
Mignon for me, hereafter, for truly you soothe away the pain and will
heal my sorrow.”