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"Very well, you shall have it. Now let us go home."

III

As soon as they reached home Rosamond ran to the garden to gather some flowers.

"I am afraid they will be dead before the jar comes, Rosamond," said her mother.

"No, indeed, mother, it will come home very soon, I am sure. I shall be very happy putting these into the purple jar.

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At last the jar came and Rosamond set it on the table. "Oh, dear mother!" cried she, as soon as she had taken off the top, "there is something dark in it. What is it? I didn't want this black stuff."

Nor I, my dear."

"But what shall I do with it, mother?"

"That I can not tell."

"But I must pour it out and fill the vase with water."

When the jar was empty it was no longer purple. It was plain white glass. Little Rosamond burst into tears.

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"Why should you cry, my dear?" said her "It will be of as much use as ever for

mother.

holding flowers."

"If I had known it was not really purple I would not have wished it so much."

But didn't I tell you to examine it?"

"I wish I had obeyed you. Now I had much rather have the shoes. Mother, I will give you the jar back and all that purple stuff, if you will only give me the shoes."

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No, Rosamond, I can not do that. You must keep the jar, and be as happy as you can."

"I will try," said Rosamond, wiping her eyes. Then she began to fill the vase with flowers.

Every day her shoes grew worse and worse. On the last day of the month she was going on a pleasure trip with her father and brother. She was very happy. As soon as she had her hat and gloves on she ran down-stairs. Her shoe dropped off. She put it on again, but her father said:

66

Why, Rosamond, I thought you were always neat. I can not take you with me."

"Oh, mother," said she, as she took off her hat, "how I wish I had chosen the shoes! They would have been of so much more use to me than that jar. However, I am not sure, because this has taught me a lesson."

Adapted.

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I have a little shadow that goes in and out with

me,

And what can be the use of him is more than

I can see.

He is very, very like me from the heels up to the head;

And I see him jump before me, when I jump into my bed.

The funniest thing about him is the way he likes to grow

Not at all like proper children, which is always very slow;

For he sometimes shoots up taller, like an India-rubber ball,

And he sometimes gets so little that there's none of him at all.

He hasn't got a notion of how children ought to play,

And can only make a fool of me in every sort of

way.

He stays so close beside me, he's a coward you

can see;

I'd think shame to stick to nursie as that shadow

sticks to me!

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