It was so old, that it began to think of marriage; and it happened
that it came to be washed in company with a garter.
"Nay!" said the collar, "I never did see anything so slender and so
fine, so soft and so neat. May I not ask your name?"
"That I shall not tell you!" said the garter.
"Where do you live?" asked the collar.
But the garter was so bashful, so modest, and thought it was a strange
question to answer.
"You are certainly a girdle," said the collar; "that is to say an
inside girdle. I see well that you are both for use and ornament, my
dear young lady."
"I will thank you not to speak to me," said the garter. "I think I
have not given the least occasion for it."
"Yes! when one is as handsome as you," said the collar, "that is
occasion enough."
"Don't come so near me, I beg of you!" said the garter. "You look so
much like those men-folks."
"I am also a fine gentleman," said the collar. "I have a boot-jack and
a hair-comb."
But that was not true, for it was his master who had them: but he
boasted.
"Don't come so near me," said the garter: "I am not accustomed to it."
"Prude!" exclaimed the collar; and then it was taken out of the
washing-tub. It was starched, hung over the back of a chair in the
sunshine, and was then laid on the ironing-blanket; then came the warm
box-iron. "Dear lady!" said the collar. "Dear widow-lady! I feel quite
hot. I am quite changed. I begin to unfold myself. You will burn a
hole in me. Oh! I offer you my hand."
"Rag!" said the box-iron; and went proudly over the collar: for she
fancied she was a steam-engine, that would go on the railroad and draw
the waggons. "Rag!" said the box-iron.
The collar was a little jagged at the edge, and so came the long
scissors to cut off the jagged part.
"Oh!" said the collar, "you are certainly the first opera dancer. How
well you can stretch your legs out! It is the most graceful
performance I have ever seen. No one can imitate you."
"I know it," said the scissors.
"You deserve to be a baroness," said the collar. "All that I have is a
fine gentleman, a boot-jack, and a hair-comb. If I only had the
barony!"
"Do you seek my hand?" said the scissors; for she was angry; and
without more ado, she _cut him_, and then he was condemned.
"I shall now be obliged to ask the hair-comb. It is surprising how
well you preserve your teeth, Miss," said the collar. "Have you never
thought of being betrothed?"
"Yes, of course! you may be sure of that," said the hair comb. "I _am_
betrothed--to the boot-jack!"
"Betrothed!" exclaimed the collar. Now there was no other to court,
and so he despised it.
A long time passed away, then the collar came into the rag chest at
the paper mill; there was a large company of rags, the fine by
themselves, and the coarse by themselves, just as it should be. They
all had much to say, but the collar the most; for he was a real
boaster.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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