Don't be finding fault."
"I wonder who can be talking?" said Uncle Wiggily. "I must look
around." So he looked up in the air, but though he heard the leaves
whispering he knew they had not spoken. Then he looked to the right,
to the left, in front and behind, but he saw no one. Then he looked
down, and right at his feet was a clump of blue violet flowers.
"Did you speak?" asked Uncle Wiggily of the violets.
"Yes," answered one who had been finding fault. "I was telling my
sisters and brothers that we are of no use in the world. We just grow
up here in the woods, where no one sees us, and we never can have any
fun. I want to be a big, red rose and grow in a garden."
"Oh, my!" cried Uncle Wiggily. "I never heard of a violet turning into
a rose." Then the mother violet spoke and said:
"I tell my little girl-flower that she ought to be happy to grow here
in the nice woods, in the green moss, where it is so cool and moist.
But she does not seem to be happy, nor are some of the other violets."
"Well, that isn't right," Uncle Wiggily said, kindly. "I am sure you
violets can do some good in this world. You are pretty to look at, and
nice to smell, and that is more than can be said of some things."
"Oh, I want to do something big!" said the fault-finding violet. "I
want to go out in the world and see things.
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