le I speak to Mr. Sole about my
clogs."

Mr. Sole was by this time at leisure, and while her mother was
speaking to him, Rosamond stood in profound meditation, with one shoe
on, and the other in her hand.

"Well, my dear, have you decided?"

"Mamma!--yes,--I believe I have. If you please, I should like to have
the flower-pot; that is, if you won't think me very silly, mamma."

"Why, as to that, I can't promise you, Rosamond; but when you have to
judge for yourself you should choose what would make you happy, and
then it would not signify who thought you silly."

"Then, mamma, if that's all, I'm sure the flower-pot would make me
happy," said she, putting on her old shoe again; "so I choose the
flower-pot."

"Very well, you shall have it; clasp your shoe and come home."

Rosamond clasped her shoe and ran after her mother. It was not long
before the shoe came down at the heel, and many times she was obliged
to stop to take the stones out of it, and she often limped with pain;
but still the thoughts of the purple flower-pot prevailed, and she
persisted in her choice.

When they came to the shop with the large window, Rosamond felt much
pleasure upon hearing her mother desire the servant, who was with
them, to buy the purple jar, and bring it home. He had other
commissions, so he did not return with them. Rosamond, as soon as she
got in, ran to gather all her own flowers, which she kept in a corner
of her mother's garden.

"I am afraid they'll be dead before the flower-pot comes, Rosamond,"
said her mother to her, as she came in with the flowers in her lap.

"No, indeed, mamma, it will come home very soon, I dare say. I shall
be very happy putting them into the purple flower-pot."

"I hope so, my dear."

The servant was much longer returning home than Rosamond had expected;
but at length he came, and brought with him the long-wished-for jar.
The moment it was set down upon the table, Rosamond ran up to it with
an exclamation of joy: "I may have it now, mamma?"

"Yes, my dear, it is yours."

Rosamond poured the flowers from her lap upon the carpet, and seized
the purple flower-pot.

"Oh, dear, mother!" cried she, as soon as she had taken off the top,
"but there's something dark in it which smells very disagreeably. What
is it? I didn't want this black stuff."

"Nor I, my dear."

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

"That I cannot tell."

"It will be of no use to me, mamma."

"That I cannot help."