“Maybe you’ll lose me,” said the purse. “I wish your mother had.”
“No, I sha’n’t lose you,” said Carl; and he lifted up his two legs on each side of the purse and slapped them down in the sand again;—“I sha’n’t lose you.”
“It wouldn’t be the first time,” said the purse.
“Were you ever lost?” said Carl.
“Certainly I was.”
“Then how did you get here?”
“That’s the end of my story—not the beginning.”
“Well, make haste and begin,” said Carl.
“The first place where I was settled was in a big fancy-store in London,” the purse began.