June
knew the red-bud, but she had never heard it called the Judas
tree.
"You see, the red-bud was supposed to be poisonous. It shakes in
the wind and says to the bees, 'Come on, little fellows--here's
your nice fresh honey, and when they come, it betrays and poisons
them."
"Well, what do you think o' that!" said June indignantly, and Hale
had to hedge a bit.
"Well, I don't know whether it REALLY does, but that's what they
SAY." A little farther on the white stars of the trillium gleamed
at them from the border of the woods and near by June stooped over
some lovely sky-blue blossoms with yellow eyes.
"Forget-me-nots," said Hale. June stooped to gather them with a
radiant face.
"Oh," she said, "is that what you call 'em?"
"They aren't the real ones--they're false forget-me-nots."
"Then I don't want 'em," said June. But they were beautiful and
fragrant and she added gently:
"'Tain't their fault. I'm agoin' to call 'em jus' forget-me-nots,
an' I'm givin' 'em to you," she said--"so that you won't."
"Thank you," said Hale gravely. "I won't."
They found larkspur, too--
"'Blue as the heaven it gazes at,'" quoted Hale.
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