“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.”
“But I must pour it out, and fill the flower-pot with water.”
“As you please, my dear.”
“Will you lend me a bowl to pour it into, mamma?”
“That was more than I promised you, my dear; but I will lend you a bowl.”
The bowl was produced, and Rosamond proceeded to empty the purple vase. But she experienced much surprise and disappointment, on finding, when it was entirely empty, that it was no longer a purple vase. It was a plain white glass jar, which had appeared to have that beautiful color merely from the liquor with which it had been filled.
Little Rosamond burst into tears.
“Why should you cry, my dear?” said her mother; “it will be of as much use to you now as ever, for a flower-pot.”
“But it won’t look so pretty on the chimney-piece. I am sure, if I had known that it was not really purple, I should not have wished to have it so much.”
“But didn’t I tell you that you had not examined it; and that perhaps you would be disappointed?”
“And so I am disappointed, indeed. I wish I had believed you at once. Now I had much rather have the shoes, for I shall not be able to walk all this month; even walking home that little way hurt me exceedingly. Mamma, I will give you the flower-pot back again, and that purple stuff and all, if you’ll only give me the shoes.”
“No, Rosamond; you must abide by your own choice; and now the best thing you can possibly do is to bear your disappointment with good humor.”
“I will bear it as well as I can,” said Rosamond, wiping her eyes; and she began slowly and sorrowfully to fill the vase with flowers.
But Rosamond’s disappointment did not end here. Many were the difficulties and distresses into which her imprudent choice brought her, before the end of the month.
Every day her shoes grew worse and worse, till as last she could neither run, dance, jump, nor walk in them.
Whenever Rosamond was called to see anything, she was detained pulling her shoes up at the heels, and was sure to be too late.
Whenever her mother was going out to walk, she could not take Rosamond with her, for Rosamond had no soles to her shoes; and at length, on the very last day of the month, it happened that her father proposed to take her with her brother to a glass-house, which she had long wished to see. She was very happy; but, when she was quite ready, had her hat and gloves on, and was making haste downstairs to her brother and father, who were waiting for her at the hall door, the shoe dropped off. She put it on again in a great hurry, but, as she was going across the hall, her father turned round.