THE GARDEN OF LIVE FLOWERS
After Kenneth recovered from the scarlet fever and Rose came back to
the city, the Thornton family went away for the summer to their island
down in Maine, which the children loved better than any other place in
the whole world.
It was a very wonderful island, and though Kenneth and Rose had gone
down there as many years as they could remember, they were continually
finding something new which they had never seen before. They liked to
play that it was a desert island and that they were Robinson Crusoes
who were exploring to see what they might find. And they were always
hoping to come upon a mysterious footprint, or something like that.
One particular day they were scrambling about on the rocks, a long
way from the foot of the cliff on which perched their summer home.
They had never before happened to climb down to this particular spot,
because it was such a steep scramble. From the top of the cliff it did
not look interesting at all. I dare say nobody had ever before been on
that part of the island, except perhaps the Prout children, who lived
not far away all the year round. It was a bad landing-place; no boat
could ever come in from the sea on account of the big waves that dashed
up on the sharp rocks. And nobody would ever have thought of scrambling
down the cliff and over those rough boulders unless, like Columbus, he
was an adventurous explorer looking to see what he might find. But you
see, that is just what Kenneth and Rose were. They were explorers, and
they had their eyes wide open to see what there might be in this new
place.
They hopped over the little rocks and climbed over the big ones; they
crawled over some and slid down others which were very slippery. For
the tide had gone out, and here and there the rocks held little pools
which the sun had not dried.
There were shells and seaweed and starfish in these pools, but the
children did not stop to gather them, for they had seen others just
like them often before. They scrambled on towards a big, big rock that
stood up right across the way between the cliff and the foamy water.
“We can’t go any further,” said Rose.
“Oh, we must go further,” answered Kenneth. “Perhaps there is some big
discovery just beyond. Why, Rose, supposing Columbus had stopped the
first time he was discouraged, he would never have discovered America.
And then where should we be now?”
Rose could not answer that question. So they decided to go on. Kenneth
helped Rose and Rose helped Kenneth, and they scrambled and climbed and
puffed and panted, and bumped their knees on the rock, which was the
hardest one that they had ever climbed. But at last they came to the
top; and beyond, down below, was a flat rock which the tide had just
washed clean as a spandy floor.
“Pooh!” said Kenneth. “I don’t think _that_ is very much to find. I
hoped there would be at least a cave.”
“Let’s go down,” said Rose. “I think it looks nice. See, there is a
shelf over the edge. Perhaps there is a cave or something under this
big rock. I want to go down and see.”
So they began to slide and scramble again; and it is a great deal
easier to slide down than up, as every one knows. In a very few moments
Kenneth landed on all fours on the flat shelf of rock, and in another
minute Rose bumped down beside him. And then Rose said “Oh!”
Now perhaps you think that she said “Oh!” because she had bumped
her little nose on the hard rock. But that was not the reason. Rose
scarcely ever cried, even when she bumped herself hard, for she was a
brave little girl, the nicest kind of a sister for a boy to have.
No; Rose said “Oh!” because she had made a discovery. There was
something under the shelf of rock down which they had slid. There was a
pool of water; a long, shallow pool of sea-water as cold as ice, into
which Rose had plunged her foot. But that was not all. It was a tiny,
beautiful sea-garden full of flowers.
Kenneth cried “Oh!” too, when he saw where Rose was pointing, and in a
minute the two children were lying flat on their stomachs staring at
the wonderful garden. My! But I wish you could have seen how wonderful
it was. I must try to tell you how it looked.
In the first place, the bottom of the basin, the rocky pool in which
some of the sea-water had been glad to linger when the rest ran away
with the tide,--this bowl was of a brilliant pink, bright as Rose’s own
pink cheeks. It was covered with a thick painted coating like coral,
and I suppose some kind of little animal like a coral-creature had made
it so. In the next place, up from the pinkness grew tiny plants of
seaweed, green and brown and yellow, branching and spreading out like
little trees and bushes, and waving in the water just as trees do in
the wind. Among the seaweed lived pink and purple and yellow starfish
and little crawling periwinkles carrying their shell houses upon their
backs. Here and there a funny little hermit-crab scuttled busily about,
keeping tightly hold of the shell which he had stolen to be his home.
Among the leaves of the seaweed trees Rose spied a tiny conger eel
moving to and fro, waving his fins as though they were wings, this
queer ocean bird!
But what made Kenneth and Rose cry “Oh, oh, oh!” three times out loud
and clap their hands with joy, was the living flowers.
Living flowers! You have read in fairy-books about flowers that came
alive? But this is no fairy-story, and these flowers were real, truly
live flowers,--flowers that were happy and hungry, that ate and drank
and moved, opening and closing whenever they chose.
Some of the flowers were brown,--little brown sacks, with a daisy
flower growing out of the end, waving its petals to and fro to catch
its dinner of tiny unseen things that live in the water. Some of the
flowers were green, some were yellowish pink, some pale greenish blue.
And they were all wide open under the water, staring up through it at
the blue sky.
One flower was like a little ripe, red strawberry, growing from the
roof of the cave; just the size and shape of a juicy strawberry, and
looking good enough to eat. Each blue flower-star had a white centre,
and when Rose put her little finger down very carefully into this
mouth, it closed its petals tightly, for it thought it had found a nice
bit of dinner. It was a funny, tickly feeling, and Rose drew away her
finger quickly, but very gently so as not to hurt the sea-flower. Then
Kenneth put his finger into the mouth of one of the pinkish flowers,
and the petals did not move. He tickled the flower gently, and it
seemed to like the feeling, which I dare say was as new to the flower
as the flower was to Kenneth. For the children had never before seen a
garden of live flowers.
[Illustration: LIVING FLOWERS]
For a long time they lay and watched the wonderful little pool and the
beautiful flowers, that moved their petals so gracefully in the water.
And they never noticed that a storm was gathering out to sea. But by
and by they saw that the flowers were closing one by one, closing
tightly and not opening again.
“Why, what makes the flowers go to sleep?” cried Rose sorrowfully. “It
is not night yet, and garden flowers do not close till the sun sets.”
“It is growing dark,” said Kenneth. “There is a cloud coming over the
sun.”
Sure enough! A heavy cloud rolled over the sun, and all the sea-flowers
closed their eyes tightly, just as earth-flowers do at night. Then
Kenneth and Rose sat up and looked around. My! They were surprised! A
heavy fog was rolling in from sea, and it was going to rain very soon.
They had been so interested in the flowers that they had not thought of
this.
“Oh, it is going to rain!” cried Rose.
“The flowers have warned us just in time. Let us hurry home, Kenneth,
before the fog shuts down so that we cannot see the way.” For they knew
how cruel the fogs were about the island, so thick and heavy that the
fishermen themselves were afraid of being caught in them, and of losing
the way home.
The children jumped up and said good-by to the beautiful garden. Then
they climbed, slid, hopped, and scrambled back over the rocks towards
home, racing with the storm. And they reached the house just as the
first drops of rain began to fall. They rushed up onto the piazza,
where their mamma was looking anxiously for them.
“Oh, Mamma,” they cried both together, “we have seen a garden of live
flowers.”
“Pink and blue and red!” cried Rose.
“And they closed tight so as to let us know that the storm was coming,”
said Kenneth.
“What, you have found a pool of sea-anemones?” cried their mother,
delighted. “I am so glad! I did not know there were any on this
island.”
“And will you come with us to-morrow to see them?” begged Rose. “We
will show you, but it is going to be a great secret. Sh! Don’t let any
one hear!”
“I am not a good climber,” said their mother, shaking her head. “I am
afraid I cannot get down that steep cliff. But you must take your Aunt
Claire, who is coming to-morrow. She will love to go with you, I know.”
“Oh, is Aunt Claire coming to-morrow? Hurray!” cried Kenneth. For the
children thought that their Aunt Claire was great fun.
“Oh, yes! We will take Aunt Claire to see the flowers,” said Rose. “But
we mustn’t tell any one else.”
“Yes, you must keep the discovery a great secret,” said their mamma.
“Some one might want to transplant the little flowers, and that would
be a great pity. You must let them live there in their own sea-garden
just as they are. But what clever little explorers you were to find
them!”
And, indeed, it is not every one who can discover a garden of live
flowers outside a fairy-book. But this was nicer than any fairy-book,
as their Aunt Claire said when Kenneth and Rose showed it to her the
very next day after she came to the island. And she ought to know, for
she writes fairy-books and tells stories better than any one else, so
the children think.