oes, to be sure, come in
with his great bunch of keys to see that all is right; but the moment
the flowers hear the clanking of the keys they stand stock-still or
hide themselves behind the long silk window curtains. Then the old
steward will say, 'Do I not smell flowers here?' but he can't see them."

"That is very funny," exclaimed little Ida, clapping her hands with
glee; "but should not I be able to see the flowers?"

"To be sure you can see them," replied the student. "You have only to
remember to peep in at the windows the next time you go to the palace. I
did so this very day, and saw a long yellow lily lying on the sofa. She
was a court lady."

"Do the flowers in the Botanical Garden go to the ball? Can they go all
that long distance?"

"Certainly," said the student; "for the flowers can fly if they please.
Have you not seen the beautiful red and yellow butterflies that look so
much like flowers? They are in fact nothing else. They have flown off
their stalks high into the air and flapped their little petals just as
if they were wings, and thus they came to fly about. As a reward for
always behaving well they have leave to fly about in the daytime, too,
instead of sitting quietly on their stalks at home, till at last the
flower petals have become real wings. That you have seen yourself.

"It may be, though, that the flowers in the Botanical Garden have never
been in the king's castle. They may not have heard what frolics take
place there every night. But I'll tell you; if, the next time you go to
the garden, you whisper to one of the flowers that a great ball is to be
given yonder in the castle, the news will spread from flower to flower
and they will all fly away. Then should the professor come to his garden
there won't be a flower there, and he will not be able to imagine what
has become of them."

"But how can one flower tell it to another? for I am sure the flowers
cannot speak."

"No; you are right there," returned the student. "They cannot speak, but
they can make signs. Have you ever noticed that when the wind blows a
little the flowers nod to each other and move all their green leaves?
They can make each other understand in this way just as well as we do by
talking."

"And does the professor understand their pantomime?" asked Ida.

"Oh, certainly; at least part of it. He came into his garden one morning
and saw that a great stinging nettle was making signs with its leaves to
a beautiful red ca