12 THE GOLDEN TOUCH.

many millions more as would take forever to reckon up)
for some fried trout, an egg, a potato, a hot cake, and a
cup of coffee!

“It would be quite too dear,” thought Midas.

Nevertheless, so great was his hunger, and the per-
plexity of his situation, that he again groaned aloud, and
very grievously too. Our pretty Marygold could endure
it no longer. She sat, a moment, gazing at her father,
and trying, with all the might of her little wits, to find
out what was the matter with him. Then, with a sweet
and sorrowful impulse to comfort him, she started from
her chair, and, running to Midas, threw her arms affec-
tionately about his knees. He bent down and kissed
her. He felt that his little daughter’s love was worth
a thousand times more than he had gained by the Golden
Touch.

‘‘ My precious, precious Marygold ! ” cried he.

But Marygold made no answer.

Alas, what had he done? How fatal was the gift
which the stranger bestowed! The moment the lips
of Midas touched Marygold’s forehead, a change had
taken place. Her sweet, rosy face, so full of affection as
it had been, assumed a glittering yellow color, with yel-
low tear-drops congealing on her cheeks. Her beautiful
brown ringlets took the same tint. Her soft and tender
little form grew hard and inflexible within her father’s
encircling arms. O, terrible misfortune! The victim of
lus insatiable desire for wealth, little Marygold was a hu-
man child no longer, but a golden statue !

Yes, there she was, with the questioning look of love,