ANOTHER PART OF THE STREAM 235 



Grandmother said she wished to know if a weed 

 were a flower that had no real bunk. 



" Not always," Tommy told her, but that he 

 was very suspicious when they hadn't one. 



I said I thought I should have to live in the 

 country a long time before I would be able to tell 

 weeds from flowers, because neither Tommy nor 

 Professor Bonn had any rules to go by, and that 

 even Herr Wilhelm Fritz was most perplexing 

 whenever he talked about weeds. I don't know 

 just what Grandmother means, but I have heard 

 her say to Professor Bonn that it is sentiment 

 which makes the difference between weeds and 

 flowers, and that she only calls those weeds which 

 are neither pretty nor useful. She thinks that her 

 way is by far the best, for Wild Rose can then be 

 a flower and so can Butter and Eggs. 



Some plants that have been in the stream all 

 summer are called Pickerel-weeds. But we have 

 never once picked them. Their small flowers grow 

 together in bunches, something the shape of spikes, 

 and they are purplish-blue. Around their edges 

 they have a ragged look. The one leaf on each 

 plant opens near the top of the stem. It reminds 

 me a little of a broad arrow. 



Although Pickerel-weeds go on blooming all 

 summer, Tommy has noticed that each of the little 

 flowers lives but one day. As soon as it dies then 

 another opens to keep the bunch fresh-looking. 

 The reason we don't pick them is because they are 



