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first name that you had, but why are you called 
Crocus ?” 
“My first name is the truest one,” the Crocus re¬ 
plied, “ for your first father who gave it to me knew 
best what all names meant. The Greeks called us 
Crocus, because a beautiful young man of that 
name was changed into a form just like ours—” 
“ Changed into a flower ! how could that be ?” 
said Mary. 
“ Oh! I am sure I cannot tell you that; for I 
do not know how my spirit finds in the dark earth 
such delicate stuff as I am made of, or why my 
father, the Sun, sends me such beautiful rays from 
his great globe to be made into smiles of all colors. 
“ I suppose the spirit of that young man, when 
he had laid his human body in the grave, did the 
same thing as my spirit does. Perhaps he wanted 
his friends to see him, and as they could not see a 
