78 “THESE THREE,”

It had been in honour once, that poor old,
broken-down flower-pot. It had stood in a hand-
some green. stand in a drawing-room window, and
people had come up to it and said, “ How beauti-
ful!” But that was a long time ago, and because it
held inside a lovely yellow rose in full flower, and
the “ How beautiful !” was meant for the rose. —

Still, next to being admired oneself, comes having
something to do with those who are, especially if
one can be of use to them; and the flower-pot
was as proud of supporting the tea-rose in its
bosom as a flower-pot can be of anything.

Well, either the gardener was careless as well as
old, or else the severe winter alone was to blame ;
but certainly one day the yellow rose died, and
the old lady of the house (everybody was old about
the place) said to the servants, “Take it away at
once ; I cannot bear the sight of it !”

So they carried it out of the room, and the
gardener wheeled it down to the shed in the corner
of the paddock, and set it upright on the tea-box
to wait till he could “ attend to it,” as he said.

Now the shed was almost as old as the people