puttin' out a flower."

"Ain't there any Catholics?" asked Lovey Mary.

"Don't you see them hollyhawks an' snowballs an' laylacs? All of them
are Catholics, takin' up lots of room an' needin' the prunin'-knife
pretty often, but bringin' cheer and brightness to the whole garden
when it needs it most. Yes, I guess you'd have trouble thinkin' of any
sect I ain't got planted. Them ferns over in the corner is Quakers. I
ain't never seen no Quakers, but they tell me that they don't b'lieve
in flowerin' out; that they like coolness an' shade an' quiet, an' are
jes the same the year round. These colea plants are the apes; they are
all things to all men, take on any color that's round 'em, kin be the
worst kind of Baptists or Presbyterians, but if left to theyselves
they run back to good-fer-nothin's. This here everlastin' is one of
these here Christians that's so busy thinkin' 'bout dyin' that he
fergits to live."

Miss Viny chuckled as she crumbled the dry flower in her fingers.

"See how different this is," she said, plucking a sprig of lemon-
verbena. "This an' the mint an' the sage an' the lavender is all true
Christians; jes by bein' touched they give out a' influence that makes
the whole world a sweeter place to live in. But, after all, they can't
all be alike! There's all sorts of Christians: some stands fer
sunshine, some fer shade; some fer beauty, some fer use; some up high,
some down low. There's jes one thing all the flowers has to unite in
fightin' ag'inst--that's the canker-worm, Hate. If it once gits in a
plant, no matter how good an' strong that plant may be, it eats right
down to its heart."