One fine summer evening, as the mother of Virginia and Maria was walking with them in the garden, she observed that, from time to time, they went away by themselves, and whispered mysteriously together; and whenever she went towards them, to inquire into the subject of their conversation, they stopped, and began to play about.

This conduct disturbed her very much; for she knew that when girls have anything which they wish to conceal from their mothers, there must be something wrong about it.

This case, however, was an exception to the general rule, Virginia and Maria had nothing improper in their minds; but the next day was their mother’s birth-day, and they wished to think of something which would be a suitable present for them to make her.

Virginia was two years older than Maria, and the two sisters were very different. Virginia was lively, quick, and graceful; Maria was quiet, modest, and loving.

“Let us make mamma some present which will prove which of us possesses the finest taste,” said Virginia. “In our garden and the meadow the flowers are all striving to see which will excel in beauty. Let us choose, from among them, the flowers we like best, and make a nosegay, each by ourselves; and then see which our mother will prefer.”

Maria agreed to her sister’s proposal, and, early on the next morning, they went, by different paths, through the meadow and garden, to make their choice. All the flowers smiled upon them, and seemed to invite attention: but they flew, like butterflies, from one to the other, uncertain where to choose. At length the early morning was gone, and it was time for them to return to breakfast.—They both knew that a want of punctuality would displease their mother, more than any nosegays could give her pleasure. So they broke off their flowers hastily, and carried them to the house, without even suffering each other to see what they had.

Soon after breakfast, Virginia approached her mother with a smile of satisfaction, and very gracefully presented her a bunch of fresh moss-roses, in a little basket curiously woven of the green leaves of the bush.

“Dear mother!” said she, “see how, from this little basket of leaves, this full-blown moss-rose lifts up its head in the centre, with a colour so lively and so soft. This beautiful rose is you, mother, and this little bud beneath its shadow is your Virginia.”

Maria approached with a timid step, and spoke in a low, hesitating voice:

“Mother, here is my nosegay. It is not so beautiful nor ingenious as Virginia’s rose-basket.—It is only a bunch of honeysuckle blossoms, from the vine which twined around the nut-tree, as I would rest on you.”

When Maria said this, she threw her arms around her mother’s neck, and wet her cheeks with tears of quiet love.

The beauty and ingenuity of the rose-basket had delighted the eye of the happy mother, but Maria’s present touched her heart; and tears filled her eyes, as she returned the embrace of her affectionate child.

“My dear children,” said she, “your gifts are like yourselves, and you shall both be precious to me.”

As she said this, she took the rose-bud from the basket, and twining it with the honeysuckles, put them both into her bosom.

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