“Don’t you know that?” asked the
ragged shoe, which lay near. “Why, the
smith who drinks so much lives here, and his wife who
wore me out.”
And then she told how it looked inside, how life went
on there, and it was not cheering; no, but fearfully
sad. The shoe knew it all well, and told a whole
lot in a few minutes, because she had such a well-hung
tongue.
Now there came a pair of ragged children, running—the
smith’s boy and girl; he was six years old and
the girl eight, so the shoe said, after they were
gone.
“Oh, see, what a pretty little plant!”
said the girl. “So now, I shall pull it
up,” said the boy, and the plant trembled to
the root’s heart.
“No, do not do it!” said the girl.
“We must let it grow. Do you not see what
pretty crinkly leaves it has? It will have lovely
flowers, I know, when it grows bigger.”
And it was allowed to stay there. The children
took a stick and dug up the earth round about, so
it looked like a plowed field. Then they threw
the shoe and the sweepings a little way off, because
they thought to make the place look better.
“You cannot think,” said the shoe, after
the children had gone, “you cannot think how
in the way folks are!”
“The children have to give themselves airs,
and pretend to be very orderly,” said the half
of a coffee-cup; and she broke in another place she
was so disturbed.
But the sun shone warmly and the rain filtered down
in the upturned earth. Then leaf after leaf unfolded,
and in a few days the plant was several inches high.
“Oh, see!” said the children, who came
again; “see how beautiful it is getting!”
“Come, father, come! brother and I have discovered
such a pretty plant! Come and see it!”
begged the girl.
The father glanced at it. The plant looked so
lovely on the little rough bit of soil which lay between
the piles of sweepings.
The smith nodded to the children.
“It looks very disorderly here,” he said
to himself, and stopped an instant. “Yes,
indeed, it does!” He went along, but thought
of the little green spot, with the lovely plant in
the midst of it.
* * * *
*
pet’ als in’ mates scrubbed fra’
grant
The children ran into the house.
“Mother,” said they, “there is such
a rare plant growing right by the window!”
The mother wished to glance out, but the window was
so thick with dust that she could not do so.
She wiped off a little spot.
“My! My!” said she, when she noticed
how dirty the window looked beside the cleaned spot;
so she wiped the whole window.
“That is an odd plant,” said she, looking
at it. “But how dreadfully dirty it is
out in the yard!”
Now that the sun shone in through the window it became
very light in the cottage. The mother looked
at the ragged children and at the rubbish in the room,
and the blood rushed over her pale cheeks.
