[Illustration:  Wind Flower]

They left it standing, but when they came upon a growth of wind-flowers there were so many of them that they did not hesitate to dig them freely.

“I wonder why they’re called ’wind-flowers’?” queried Ethel Brown, whose curiosity on the subject of names had been aroused.

“I know that answer,” replied Ethel Blue unexpectedly.  “That is, nobody knows the answer exactly; I know that much.”

The other girls laughed.

“What is the answer as far as anybody knows it?” demanded Dorothy.

“The scientific name is ‘anemone.’  It comes from the Greek word meaning ‘wind.’”

“That seems to be a perfectly good answer.  Probably it was given because they dance around so prettily in the wind,” guessed Dorothy.

“Helen’s botany says that it was christened that either because it grew in windy places or because it blossomed at the windy season.”

“Dorothy’s explanation suits me best,” Ethel Brown decided.  “I shall stick to that.”

“I think it’s prettiest myself,” agreed Dorothy.

“She’s so much in earnest she doesn’t realize that she’s deciding against famous botanists,” giggled Ethel Brown.

“It is prettier—­a lot prettier,” insisted Ethel Blue.  “I’m glad I’ve a cousin who can beat scientists!”

“What a glorious lot of finds!” cried Ethel Brown.  “Just think of our getting all these in one afternoon!”

“I don’t believe we could except in a place like this where any plant can have his taste suited with meadow or brookside or woods or rocks.”

“And sunshine or shadow.”

They were in a gay mood as they gathered up their baskets and trowels and gently laid pieces of newspaper over the uprooted plants.

“It isn’t hot to-day but we won’t run any risk of their getting a headache from the sun,” declared Dorothy.

“These woodsy ones that aren’t accustomed to bright sunshine may be sensitive to it,” assented Ethel Blue.  “We must remember to tell Helen in just what sort of spot we found each one so she can make its corner in the garden bed as nearly like it as possible.”

“I’m going to march in and quote Shakespeare to her,” laughed Ethel Brown.  “I’m going to say

    ’I know a bank where the wild thyme blows,
    Where oxlip and the nodding violet grows,’

and then I’ll describe the ‘bank’ so she can copy it.”

“If she doesn’t she may have to repeat Bryant’s ’Death of the Flowers’:—­

    ‘The windflower and the violet, they perished long ago.’”

CHAPTER VII

COLOR SCHEMES

“Look out, Della; don’t pick that! Don’t pick that, it’s poison ivy!” cried Ethel Brown as all the Club members were walking on the road towards Grandfather Emerson’s.  A vine with handsome glossy leaves reached an inviting cluster toward passers-by.