It was no enviable position that she occupied, laughed at, despised,
and scorned by all the other flowers in the garden, and in hourly
expectation of being torn up by the roots and thrown into the
street--the poor Poppy!
One day when the lady and her Carie were walking in the garden, the
little girl, who had looked rather pale, put her hands suddenly to
her head, and cried aloud. Her mother was very much frightened. She
caught up the little girl in her arms, and tried to ascertain what
was the matter; but the child only pressed her hands more tightly to
her head, and cried more piteously. The lady carried her into the
house, and the family were soon all in an uproar. The servants were
all running hither and thither; no one seemed to know what was the
matter; for the lady had fainted from terror at her child's pale
face and agonized cries, and the little girl could tell nothing.
"It is that odious Poppy who is the cause of all this!" said the
flowers one to another (little Carie was indeed playing in her
immediate vicinity when she was seized with that dreadful distress),
"she has poisoned her." And their suspicions were confirmed when one
of the servants came running into the garden, and seizing hold of
the Poppy, stripped off every one of her bright scarlet petals, and
gathering them up, returned quickly to the house.
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