oad track, picking ox-eye daisies, buttercups, and sorrel. They
worked like beavers, and soon the bunches were almost too big for their
little hands. Then they came running to give them to their mother. "Oh,
dear," thought I, "how that poor, tired woman will hate to open her
eyes! and she never can take those great bunches of common, fading
flowers, in addition to all her bundles and bags." I was mistaken.

"Oh, thank you, my darlings! How kind you were! Poor, hot, tired little
flowers, how thirsty they look! If they will only try and keep alive
till we get home, we will make them very happy in some water; won't we?
And you shall put one bunch by papa's plate, and one by mine."

Sweet and happy, the weary and flushed little children stood looking up
in her face while she talked, their hearts thrilling with compassion for
the drooping flowers and with delight in the giving of their gift. Then
she took great trouble to get a string and tie up the flowers, and then
the train came, and we were whirling along again. Soon it grew dark, and
little Annie's head nodded. Then I heard the mother say to the oldest
boy, "Dear, are you too tired to let little Annie put her head on your
shoulder and take a nap? We shall get her home in much better ease to
see papa if we can manage to give her a little sleep." How many boys of
twelve hear such words as these from tired, overburdened mothers?

Soon came the city, the final station, with its bustle and noise. I
lingered to watch my happy family, hoping to see the father. "Why, papa
isn't here!" exclaimed one disappointed little voice after another.
"Never mind," said the mother, with a still deeper disappointment in her
own tone; "perhaps he had to go to see some poor body who is sick." In
the hurry of picking up all the parcels, and the sleepy babies, the poor
daisies and buttercups were left forgotten in a corner of the rack. I
wondered if the mother had not intended this. May I be forgiven for the
injustice! A few minutes after I passed the little group, standing still
just outside the station, and heard the mother say, "Oh, my darlings, I
have forgotten your pretty bouquets. I am so sorry! I wonder if I could
find them if I went back. Will you all stand still if I go?"

"Oh, mamma, don't go, don't go. We will get you some more. Don't go,"
cried all the children.

"Here are your flowers, madam," said I. "I saw that you had forgotten
them, and I took them as mementos of you and your