The pansies drooped and faded, the white dove hid its head beneath its wing and moaned; and the last pearl on the precious string grew dark when the goblin touched it with his smutty fingers.

“Oh, dear me,” said the little girl when she saw this, “I must call my mother; for these are the pearls that I must wear to the king’s court, when he sends for me.”

“Never mind,” said the goblin, “we can wash it, and if it isn’t just as white as before, what difference does it make about one pearl?”

[Illustration:  One day * * * she had a visitor who came in without knocking.]

“But mother says that they all must be as fair as the morning,” insisted the little girl, eady to cry.  “And what will she say when she sees this one?”

“You shut the door, then,” said the goblin, pointing to the door that had never been closed, “and I’ll wash the pearl.”  So the little girl ran to close the door, and the goblin began to rub the pearl; but it only seemed to grow darker.  Now the door had been open so long that it was hard to move, and it creaked on its hinges as the little girl tried to close it.  When the mother heard this she looked up to see what was the matter.  She had been thinking about the dress which she was making; but when she saw the closing door, her heart stood still with fear; for she knew that if it once closed tight she might never be able to open it again.

She dropped her fine laces and ran towards the door, calling, “Little Daughter!  Little Daughter!  Where are you?” and she reached out her hands to stop the door.  But as soon as the little girl heard that loving voice she answered:—­

“Mother, oh!  Mother!  I need you so! my pearl is turning black and everything is wrong!” and, flinging the door wide open, she ran into her mother’s arms.

When the two went together into the little room, the goblin had gone.  The pansies now bloomed again, and the white dove cooed in peace; but there was much work for the mother and daughter, and they rubbed and scrubbed and washed and swept and dusted, till the room was so beautiful that you would not have known that a goblin had been there—­except for the one pearl which was a little blue always, even when the king was ready for Little Daughter to come to his court, although that was not until she was a very old woman.

As for the door, it was never closed again; for Little Daughter and her mother put two golden hearts against it and nothing in this world could have shut it then.

THE MINSTREL’S SONG

    MOTTO FOR THE MOTHER

    The child must listen well if he would hear.

     —­Blow’s Commentaries.

Once, long, long ago, there lived in a country over the sea a king called Rene, who married a lovely princess whose name was Imogen.

Imogen came across the seas to the king’s beautiful country, and all his people welcomed her with great joy because the king loved her.