“Yes,” said the student, “mind you think of it the next time you go out, no
doubt you will see them, if you peep through the window. I did so to-day,
and I saw a long yellow lily lying stretched out on the sofa. She was a court
lady.”
“Can the flowers from the Botanical Gardens go to these balls?” asked
Ida. “It is such a distance!”
“Oh yes,” said the student “whenever they like, for they can fly. Have
you not seen those beautiful red, white. and yellow butterflies, that look like
flowers? They were flowers once. They have flown off their stalks into the
air, and flap their leaves as if they were little wings to make them fly. Then,
if they behave well, they obtain permission to fly about during the day,
instead of being obliged to sit still on their stems at home, and so in time
their leaves become real wings. It may be, however, that the flowers in the
Botanical Gardens have never been to the king’s palace, and, therefore, they
know nothing of the merry doings at night, which take place there. I will tell
you what to do, and the botanical professor, who lives close by here, will be
so surprised. You know him very well, do you not? Well, next time you go
into his garden, you must tell one of the flowers that there is going to be a
grand ball at the castle, then that flower will tell all the others, and they will
fly away to the castle as soon as possible. And when the professor walks
into his garden, there will not be a single flower left. How he will wonder
what has become of them!”
“But how can one flower tell another? Flowers cannot speak?”
“No, certainly not,” replied the student; “but they can make signs. Have
you not often seen that when the wind blows they nod at one another, and
rustle all their green leaves?”
“Can the professor understand the signs?” asked Ida.
“Yes, to be sure he can. He went one morning into his garden, and saw a
stinging nettle making signs with its leaves to a beautiful red carnation. It
was saying, ‘You are so pretty, I like you very much.’ But the professor did
not approve of such nonsense, so he clapped his hands on the nettle to stop
