"Yes — by and by, when the cold weather comes, this must be
taken up. The cold would kill it, if it was cold enough to
freeze. It would have to go in the house. The rose can stay
out all winter if you like; but this must be kept warm. This
is a geranium. And it will give you flowers in the winter."
"J'anium?" said Molly.
"Yes. This is called the 'Jewess' — there are so many kinds
that they have to be named. This is the 'Jewess' geranium."
"Water?" — said Molly.
"Water? No, this does not need water, because the roots are in
a pot, you know, and have not been disturbed. It will want
water if rain don't come, by and by."
"What's you?" was Molly's next question, given with more
directness.
"Me? I am Daisy Randolph. And I love flowers; and you love
flowers. May I come and see you sometimes? Will you let me?"
Molly's grunt this time was not unintelligible. It was queer,
but there was certainly a tone of assent in it. She sat
looking now at the "Jewess" blossoms and now at Daisy.
"And I love Jesus," the child went on. "Do you love Him?"
The grunt was of pure question, in answer to this speech.
Molly did not understand. Daisy stooped down to face her on
more equal terms.
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