Mother Ceres had returned to her deserted home, and was sitting disconsolately on the doorstep, with her torch burning in her hand.  She had been idly watching the flame for some moments past, when, all at once, it flickered and went out.

“What does this mean?” thought she.  “It was an enchanted torch, and should have kept burning till my child came back.”

Lifting her eyes, she was surprised to see a sudden verdure flashing over the brown and barren fields, exactly as you may have observed a golden hue gleaming far and wide across the landscape, from the just risen sun.

“Does the earth disobey me?” exclaimed Mother Ceres indignantly.  “Does it presume to be green, when I have bidden it be barren until my daughter shall be restored to my arms?”

“Then open your arms, dear mother,” cried a well-known voice, “and take your little daughter into them.”

And Proserpina came running, and flung herself upon her mother’s bosom.  Their mutual transport is not to be described.  The grief of their separation had caused both of them to shed a great many tears; and now they shed a great many more, because their joy could not so well express itself in any other way.

When their hearts had grown a little more quiet, Mother Ceres looked anxiously at Proserpina.

“My child,” said she, “did you taste any food while you were in King Pluto’s palace?”

“Dearest mother,” answered Proserpina.  “I will tell you the whole truth.  Until this very morning, not a morsel of food had passed my lips.  But to-day, they brought me a pomegranate (a very dry one it was, and all shriveled up, till there was little left of it but seeds and skin), and having seen no fruit for so long a time, and being faint with hunger, I was tempted just to bite it.  The instant I tasted it, King Pluto and Quicksilver came into the room.  I had not swallowed a morsel; but—­dear mother, I hope it was no harm—­but six of the pomegranate seeds, I am afraid, remained in my mouth.”

“Ah, unfortunate child, and miserable me!” exclaimed Ceres.  “For each of those six pomegranate seeds you must spend one month of each year in King Pluto’s palace.  You are but half restored to your mother.  Only six months with me, and six with that good-for-nothing King of Darkness!”

“Do not speak so harshly of poor King Pluto,” said Proserpina, kissing her mother.  “He has some very good qualities, and I really think I can bear to spend six months in his palace, if he will only let me spend the other six with you.  He certainly did very wrong to carry me off; but then, as he says, it was but a dismal sort of life for him, to live in that great gloomy place, all alone; and it has made a wonderful change in his spirits to have a little girl to run up stairs and down.  There is some comfort in making him so happy; and so, upon the whole, dearest mother, let us be thankful that he is not to keep me the whole year round.”