It was summer, and Nina was in her garden. She knelt down before the big willowed tree and dug a hole. Then she took a little packet of flower seeds from her pocket and poured a few of them into her hand.
“Please grow,” said Nina. “Please grow.”
She spread the seeds in the earth, again put the soil over them, and watered them from her little watering-pot.
“Again, please grow,” she said. “Please, please grow.”
Then she stood up, kissed her hand to the little hole, and went into the house.
The next morning Nina jumped up and crept out into the garden. The seeds had not yet come up.
“Oh dear! Oh dear!” cried Nina. “How long must I wait! I wish I hadn’t planted those seeds.”
She went away unhappy.
The next morning she came again, and the next and the next. Still the seeds did not sprout.
“There is a little something in the earth,” said Nina’s mother.
“That is a good sign. You haven’t waited long enough just yet.”
“How long do you think I must wait?” asked Nina.
“You see, my dear, we sometimes have to wait a long, long time,” said her mother, smothering a sigh. “But,” she added, “in about a week you may begin to hope.”
But a week later Nina’s flower seeds had not come up. The soil had baked hard instead of being loose and crumbling, and Nina’s hopes had deserted her.
“You see,” she said, “it’s not going to grow; perhaps the seed was spoiled.”
She tried to tear the soil, but it was too hard.
“But let me try,” said Nina’s mother, taking the trowel from Nina’s hand.
Several days passed, and every morning Nina came out to see her seeds. The sun shone, and it rained, but still nothing happened.
Till one morning at the breakfast table Nina’s mother jumped up suddenly, exclaiming:
“Nina, get me my prickly silent plant!”
Nina brought it at once, and her mother took a little branch off.
“I am going to see if I can’t help your poor seeds along,” she said cheerily.
In the garden she dug down into the soil and scratched in the thorns from the prickly plant.
“This will help it to grow,” she said.
That very night rain came down, and in the morning a little green sprout appeared.
“Look, mother! Look!” cried Nina in delight.
“Yes, that is a good sign,” said her mother. “I believe the seeds are alive after all.”
The next morning they were green shoots.
“Now, at last, I am going to have flowers,” said Nina, kissing her hand to the little green plumes.
That day the sun shone all day long. At noon two buds unfolded, then the sun went in, but the flowers stayed fresh, even until at night the moon came out, with a full moon’s moonlight spread over the earth.
“Oh, mother’s dear silent plant is coming into bloom,” cried Nina, “It must have made the seeds grow.”
But her mother shook her head.
“No, little daughter, it is not your mother’s plant that is coming into bloom; it is the flower-seed which has blossomed at last, and is going to give us beautiful flowers, because it has been taken such good care of.”
Then her mother described to Nina the innermost construction of a flower, which blossomed and bore seeds.
And Nina clapped her hands, for, only this very day, and not a minute earlier, had her flowers now indeed come into bloom.