he hastened thither as fast as she could, and there beheld
the wet faces of the poor sea nymphs peeping over a wave. All this
while, the good creatures had been waiting on the bank of sponge, and,
once every half-minute or so, had popped up their four heads above
water, to see if their playmate were yet coming back. When they saw
Mother Ceres, they sat down on the crest of the surf wave, and let it
toss them ashore at her feet.

"Where is Proserpina?" cried Ceres. "Where is my child? Tell me, you
naughty sea nymphs, have you enticed her under the sea?"

"Oh, no, good Mother Ceres," said the innocent sea nymphs, tossing back
their green ringlets and looking her in the face. "We never should dream
of such a thing. Proserpina has been at play with us, it is true; but
she left us a long while ago, meaning only to run a little way upon the
dry land and gather some flowers for a wreath. This was early in the
day, and we have seen nothing of her since."

Ceres scarcely waited to hear what the nymphs had to say before she
hurried off to make inquiries all through the neighbourhood. But nobody
told her anything that could enable the poor mother to guess what had
become of Proserpina. A fisherman, it is true, had noticed her little
footprints in the sand, as he went homeward along the beach with a
basket of fish; a rustic had seen the child stooping to gather flowers;
several persons had heard either the rattling of chariot wheels or the
rumbling of distant thunder; and one old woman, while plucking vervain
and catnip, had heard a scream, but supposed it to be some childish
nonsense, and therefore did not take the trouble to look up. The stupid
people! It took them such a tedious while to tell the nothing that they
knew, that it was dark night before Mother Ceres found out that she must
seek her daughter elsewhere. So she lighted a torch, and set forth,
resolving never to come back until Proserpina was discovered.

In her haste and trouble of mind, she quite forgot her car and the
winged dragons; or, it may be, she thought that she could follow up the
search more thoroughly on foot. At all events, this was the way in which
she began her sorrowful journey, holding her torch before her, and
looking carefully at every object along the path. And as it happened,
she had not gone far before she found one of the magnificent flowers
which grew on the shrub that Proserpina had pulled up.

"Ha!" thought Mother Ceres, examining it by to