Mary Hallock Foote,
The Little Fig-tree Stories
(1899)
“ And so the Fig tree doesn’t tell anybody when it is going to bear fruit.”The Fig trees had heard their doom. To the words that followed they had not listened; nor would they have understood much more of it than the child of its father’s meaning.“What is this he calls our fruit?” they asked each other in fear and loathing. “Was that our fruit,—those green and purple swellings, that unspeakable weight of ugliness? Will it come year after year, and shall we never have a flower? The burden without the honor, without the love and praise, that beauty brings. ”
