<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</SPAN></span></p>
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<h2><SPAN name="THE_PINK_PARASOL" id="THE_PINK_PARASOL"></SPAN>THE PINK PARASOL.</h2>
<p>The pink parasol had tender whalebone ribs
and a slender stick of cherry-wood. It lived
with the wilful child in the white-house, just beyond
the third milestone. All about the trees were
green, and the flowers grew tall; in the pond
behind the willows the ducks swam round and
round and dipped their heads beneath the water.</p>
<p>Every bird and bee, every leaf and flower, loved
the child and the pink parasol as they wandered in
the garden together, listening to the birds and
seeking the shady spots to rest in, or walking up
and down the long trim pathway in the sunshine.
Yet the child tired of it all, and before the summer
was over, was always standing by the gate, watching
the straight white road that stretched across
the plain.</p>
<p>"If I might but see the city, with the busy streets
and the eager crowds," he was always saying to
himself.</p>
<p>Then all that lived in the garden knew that the
child would not be with them long. At last the
day came when he flung down the pink parasol,
and, without even one last look at the garden, ran
out at the gate.</p>
<p>The flowers died, and the swallows journeyed<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</SPAN></span>
south; the trees stretched higher and higher, to
see the child come back across the plain,
but he never came. "Ah, dear child!" they
sighed many a time, "why are you staying? and
are your eyes as blue as ever; or have the sad
tears dimmed them? and is your hair golden still?
and your voice, is it like the singing of the birds?
And your heart—oh! my dear, my dear, what is in
your heart now, that once was so full of summer
and the sun?"</p>
<p>The pink parasol lay on the pathway, where the
child left it, spoilt by the rain, and splashed by the
gravel, faded and forgotten. At last, a gipsy lad,
with dark eyes, a freckled face, and little gold rings
in his ears, came by; he picked up the pink
parasol, hid it under his coat, and carried it to the
gipsy tent. There it stayed till one day the cherry-wood
stick was broken into three pieces, and the
pink parasol was put on the fire to make the water
boil for the gipsy's tea.</p>
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