So the next
day she carried nothing with her; only went to pay a visit to
the garden. Nothing was to be seen but the garden; Molly did
not show herself; and Daisy went in and looked at the rose.
Much to her satisfaction, she saw that Molly had quite
discarded the great bunch of four-o'clocks which had given the
little rose tree no room on one side; they were actually
pulled up and gone; and the rose looked out in fair space and
sunshine, where its coarse-growing neighbour had threatened to
be very much in its way. An excellent sign. Molly clearly
approved of the rose. Daisy saw with great pleasure that
another bud was getting ready to open and already showing red
between the leaves of its green calyx; and she went home
happy.
Next morning she went among the flower-beds, and took a very
careful survey of all the beauties there to see what best she
might take for her next attack upon Molly. The beauties in
flower were so very many, and so very various, and so
delicious all to Daisy's eye, that she was a good deal
puzzled. Red and purple, and blue and white and yellow, the
beds were gay and glorious. But Daisy reflected that anything
which wanted skill in its culture or shelter from severities
of season would disappoint Molly, because it would not get
from her what would be necessary to its thriving.
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