68 THE GOLDEN TOUCH.

into the garden to gather some roses for you; because I
know you like them, and like them the better when gath-
ered by your little daughter. But, oh dear, dear me!
What do you think has happened? Such a misfortune!
All the beautiful roses, that smelled so sweetly and had
so many lovely blushes, are blighted and spoilt! They
are grown quite yellow, as you see this one, and have no
longer any fragrance! What can have been the matter
with them ?” ,

“Poh, my dear little girl, — pray don’t ery about it!”
said Midas, who was ashamed to confess that he himself
had wrought the change which so greatly afflicted her.
“Sit down and eat your bread and milk! You will find
it easy enough to exchange a golden rose like that (which
will last hundreds of years) for an ordinary one which
would wither in a day.”

‘“T don’t care for such roses as this!” cried Marygold,
tossing it contemptuously away. “It has no smell, and
the hard petals prick my nose ! ”

The child now sat down to table, but was so occupied
with her grief for the blighted roses that she did not even
notice the wonderful transmutation of her China bowl.
Perhaps this was all the better ; for Marygold was accus-
tomed to take pleasure in looking at the queer figures,
and strange trees and houses, that were painted on the
circumference of the bowl; and these ornaments were
now entirely lost in the yellow hue of the metal.

Midas, meanwhile, had poured out a cup of coffee;
and, as a matter of course, the coffee-pot, whatever metal
it may have been when he took it up, was gold when he