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<h3>A GREAT FAMILY</h3> Agnes Maclellan Daulton It was a lovely day in May, and the Dandelion family that lived near the big gate were lifting their pretty golden heads to greet the sun. Here and there a grandfather or grandmother Dandelion stood crowned with silver, and, let us whisper it softly, one or two were quite bald, for a playful little breeze had sent their hair a-sailing, and he chuckled at his joke, the naughty breeze. Now one grandmother stood upon a little knoll, and so was much taller than the rest. Indeed, she was the chief grandmother of the family, and much respected for her wisdom. And she was very handsome and stately, holding her graceful silver head high above the others. “A story, a story,” coaxed her grandchildren, turning their eager faces toward her. Some of them were tiny buds, but they all begged for a story. [139] “No, children, no,” she replied, in a sweet, grandmotherly tone. “Really, my dears, you have had far more stories than are good for you, and I must not let you grow up uneducated. I think we will have a short lesson in family history.” The little Dandelions sighed. “Now,” she went on, “how many of you know why we are called Dandelions?” And—will you believe it?—not one stupid little Dandelion could answer! “That is just what I expected,” said grandmother, sternly, eyeing them over her glasses. “My, my! this is very sad!” Then one little Dandelion, prompted by his mother, said he supposed it had something to do with dandies, while another bright little thing lisped out that she guessed it was because they were as fierce as lions. “No, no!” and grandmother shook her head so briskly a silver hair went flying. “Look at your leaves,” she said kindly, “and observe the edges. Learn to notice, florets; learn to notice.” “The edges are pointed like sharp teeth,[140] please, grandmother,” half whispered one bashful little fellow. “Exactly,” said grandmother, proceeding learnedly; “our name is from the Latin, dens leonis, meaning lion’s tooth, but our botanical name is Taraxacum.” “Oh, my!” sighed the little buds, for they didn’t understand a word of it. “Our roots have healing properties, and they are employed in making medicine, while our leaves are used in the spring for food; so we are useful as well as ornamental.” And the grandmother beamed with pride. “But, children, you must also know that we belong to the great and noble family of Compositæ.” “Oh, dear!” gasped the little Dandelions. “Now you know composite means made up of many parts; that is, each blossom is made up of many little florets. Study each other’s heads and you will understand my meaning. Now in this great family of Compositæ there are many, many flowers besides the Dandelions. In fact, my children, we have over nine thousand relatives. Sunflowers, marigolds,[141] asters, goldenrod, boneset, tansy, lettuce, and the daisy—all these belong to our family. Not only are we many, but we have the famous and the great among us—the thistle, royal flower of Scotland; the cornflower of Germany; the chrysanthemum, the emblem of brave little Japan—all these are composite flowers, our royal relatives.” The Dandelion family wildly applauded, and grandmother graciously bowed her acknowledgment. “But, my children,” she went on, “I would not have you forget we have also black sheep in the family—Spanish needles, ragweed, bitterweed, and beggar ticks; these, too, we must own, even though we bow our heads in shame. But so it is in all great families.” Just at this moment the gardener came whirring along with the lawn mower, and alas and alack, not a single Dandelion was left to tell the tale! But the little winged seeds from grandmother’s silver crown sailed away, carrying wisdom, I doubt not, to many another Dandelion family. <hr class="chap" />  [142] <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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