"Oh, well, I can find it by myself," said Myrtle, and out she ran.
She didn't have as fine a time as she expected. She got tired and cross. She looked for the plant by the roadside, and in the park, and on the lawns. Whenever anyone spoke to her she answered crossly. When the sun set, and warned her that it was time to go home, she hadn't seen a thing that looked like the good-luck plant. She shed a few tears as she ran home.
At the castle gate she heard a pleasant noise of laughter and happy voices in the garden. "Could they have had a party without me?" she cried.
She darted in. "Oh, Myrtle!" called her little brothers and sisters. "What do you think! Violet has found the good-luck plant, and she let us all hold it awhile, and we've had such a lovely time since lessons are done."
Myrtle's face flushed. "You are a deceitful girl," she said to her twin. "You said you meant to stay home."
"So I did," said Violet. She looked so happy and sweet that even cross Myrtle stopped frowning. "I found it while I was weeding mother's flower bed. There it was among the pansies. I knew it at once by the horseshoe shape on the leaves."
THE QUEER BLACK CALF.
BY MATTIE W. BAKER.
"Please tell us a story, grandpa," said Arthur.