So she began greeting the ladies, when she opened the door, with a cheerful little “Good morning” or “Good afternoon.”

“I wouldn’t do that,” said Miss Amanda, “it looks forward and pert.  It is their place to say ‘Good morning,’ not yours.  You have no occasion to speak to your betters, and, anyway, children should be seen and not heard.”

One day, a never-forgotten day, she went down cellar to the bin of potatoes to select some for dinner.  She was sorting them over and laying out all of one size, when she took up quite a long one, and lo! it had a little face on it and two eyes and a little hump between for a nose and a long crack below that made a very pretty mouth.

Elsie looked at it joyfully.  “It will make me a child,” she said, “no matter if it has no arms or legs; the face is everything.”

She carefully placed it at the end of the bin, and whenever she could slip away without neglecting her work would run down cellar and talk softly to it.

But one day her potato-child was gone!  Elsie’s heart gave a big jump, and then fell like lead, and seemed to lie perfectly still; but it commenced to beat again, beat and ache, beat and ache!

She tried to look for the changeling; but the tears made her so that she couldn’t see very well; and there were so many potatoes!  She looked every moment she had a chance all the next day, and cried a great deal.  “I can never be real happy again,” she thought.

“Don’t cry any more,” said Miss Amanda,” it does not look well when you open the door for my customers.  You have enough to eat and wear; what more do you want?”

“Something to love,” said Elsie, but not very loud.

She tried not to cry again, and then she felt worse not-to shed tears, when, perhaps, her dear little potato-child was eaten up.

Two days after, as she was still searching, a little piece of white paper in the far dark corner attracted her attention.  She went over and lifted it up.  Behind it was a hole, and partly in and partly out of the hole lay her potato-child.  I think a rat had dragged it out of the bin.  She hugged it to her heart, and cried for joy.

“Oh, my darling, you have come back to me, you have come back!  And then it seemed as if the pink eyes of the potato-child looked up into Elsie’s in affectionate gratitude; and it became plain to Elsie that her child loved her.  She was so thankful that she even kissed the little piece of white paper.  “If it hadn’t been for you I would never have found my child.  I mean to keep you always,” she said, and she wrapped it about her potato-child, and put them in her bosom.  “We must never be parted again,” she murmured.

At supper, with many misgivings, she unwrapped her treasure for Miss Amanda, and asked if she could keep it as her own.  “I won’t eat any potato for dinner tomorrow if you will give me this,” she said.

“Well,” answered Miss Amanda, “I don’t know as it will do any harm; why do you want it?”