be. I took it and looked at it.

"Do ye mind," my old friend said, "how the flowers spoke to
you and brought you messages, when Daisy was a child yet and
first came to see me?"

"I know - I remember," I said.

"Does that no tell you something?"

"What does it tell me?" I said, scarce able to command my
words, under the power of association, or memory, which was
laying its message on my heart, though it was a flower that
bore the message. Inanimate things do that sometimes - I
think, often, - when the ear of the soul is open to hear them;
and flowers in especial are the Lord's messengers and speak
what He gives them. I knew this one spoke to me.

"Listen, and see," Miss Cardigan said.

I looked, and as I looked, these words came up in my mind -

"Why are ye fearful, O ye of little faith?"

"The Lord over all is rich unto all that call upon Him."

And still as I looked, I remembered, - "In all their
afflictions He was afflicted;" - and, "My God shall supply all
your need, according to His riches in glory by Christ Jesus."
The words came into my head; but apart from the words, the