_The love of flowers and of growing things is an instinct that
should be encouraged._
There were four beans growing in one pod. The sun shone and the
rain fell. The pod grew and the beans grew. As they grew larger
they thought more of what they must do.
“Shall we stay here always?” said one. “I feel that there is
something outside of this pod.”
Weeks passed. The pod became white and the beans brown. Then they
felt a pull at the pod. Crack! the pod opened and the four beans
rolled out into the sunshine. They lay in a little boy’s hand.
“Now we are in the world sure enough and we shall see what will
happen,” said the beans. The little boy put one bean into his pea
shooter and away it went into the gutter to be washed away by the
rain. Another bean went up into the air and fell into a chicken
yard, where the old hen promptly ate it. Still another bean fell
into the street and a wagon rolled over it. And that is what
happened to three beans.
But let us see about the fourth bean. The little boy was passing a
house where a poor woman lived with her sick daughter. The woman
went to work every day, but the girl had to stay in bed all the
time. It was very lonesome all day in bed with mother away at
work. The little boy shot his pea shooter with the bean in it, and
the bean fell into a bed of soft moss right under the sick girl’s
window.
One morning when the sun peeped into the window of her room the
little sick child cried: “Look out of the window, mother! What can
that green thing be?” The mother went to the window.
“Oh,” said she, “that is a little bean, it has taken root and is
putting out its green leaves.” Then she moved the little girl’s
bed to the window and went off to work. The child was happy every
day watching the vine climb higher and higher until it reached the
window sill and she could touch it with her hand.
A week later the sick child sat up in the sunshine a whole hour.
The window was open and just outside was the little vine covered
with white blossoms.
The mother felt that her daughter would get well. The child kissed
the beautiful flowers. “I wonder from where the little bean came,”
said the little girl.
“Our heavenly father planted that bean,” said the mother. “He has
made it grow to be a joy to you and me.” The child folded her hands
over the blossoms and said: “Oh, I will not mind being sick if I
can have a little flower like this to watch every day.”