"I'm afraid they'll be dead before the flower-pot comes, Rosamond," said her mother to her, when she was coming in with the flowers in her lap. "No, indeed, mamma, it will come home very soon, I dare say; and shan't I 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 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 --it smells very disagreeable: what is in it? I didn't want this black stuff." "Nor I neither, my dear." "But what shall I do with it, mamma?" "That I cannot tell." "But it will be of no use to me, mamma." "That I can't help." "But I must pour it out, and fill the flower-pot with water." "That's 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 what was her surprise and disappointment, when it was entirely empty, to find 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-vase." "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 beforehand. 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'll 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.