particular spot that Louise had chosen for a garden. Perhaps there was some special luck about it that attracted dogs and cats and velocipedes and workmen. But what happened now was most curious of all. Mr. Mistletoe and Perez had been cutting down trees in the back lot. One of these trees, tall and very straight, had been trimmed and stripped of its bark and sandpapered and varnished. One day, while Louise was away on a picnic, a deep hole was dug and the new shining pole was put up. Of course you can guess what happened. The place where the pole was set was the exact spot where the unsuccessful zinnia garden had been. When Louise came home that afternoon she forgot all about the bad luck she had had. For a surprising flower had shot up, bigger than any zinnia, brighter than any picture on a seed-packet. Tall and straight and clean, the stalk rose thirty feet into the air. At the top was the gayest and prettiest of flowers. Brilliant with colour, it floated gently in the breeze—the American flag.
Probably no one except Louise remembers the courageous little zinnia that once grew where the flagpole now is. But the old kitchen chimney
