were washed up, and the baby rocked to sleep,
Flax came to her mother with a petition.

"Mother," said she, "won't you give me a holiday this afternoon?"

"Why, where do you want to go, Flax?" said her mother.

"I want to go over on the mountain and hunt for wild flowers," replied
Flax.

"But I think it is going to rain, child, and you will get wet."

"That won't hurt me any, mother," said Flax, laughing.

"Well, I don't know as I care," said her mother, hesitatingly. "You have
been a very good industrious girl, and deserve a little holiday. Only
don't go so far that you cannot soon run home if a shower should come
up."

So Flax curled her flaxen hair and tied it up with a blue ribbon, and
put on her blue and white checked dress. By the time she was ready to go
the clouds over in the northwest were piled up very high and black, and
it was quite late in the afternoon. Very likely her mother would not
have let her go if she had been at home, but she had taken the baby, who
had waked from his nap, and gone to call on her nearest neighbor, half a
mile away. As for her father, he was busy in the garden, and all the
other children were with him, and they did not notice Flax when she
stole out of the front door. She crossed the river on a pretty arched
stone bridge nearly opposite the house, and went directly into the woods
on the side of the mountain.

Everything was very still and dark and solemn in the woods. They knew
about the storm that was coming. Now and then Flax heard the leaves
talking in queer little rustling voices. She inherited the ability to
understand what they said from her father. They were talking to each
other now in the words of her father's song. Very likely he had heard
them saying it sometime, and that was how he happened to know it.

"O what is it shineth so golden-clear
At the rainbow's foot on the dark green hill?"

Flax heard the maple-leaves inquire. And the pine-leaves answered back:

"'Tis the Pot of Gold, that for many a year
Has shone, and is shining and dazzling still."

Then the maple-leaves asked:

"And whom is it for, O Pilgrim, pray?"

And the pine-leaves answered:

"For thee, Sweetheart, shouldst thou go that way."

Flax did not exactly understand the sense of the last question and
answer between maple and pine-leaves. But they kept on saying it
over and over as she ran along. She was going straight to the tall
pine-tree. She knew just where