and, if not, you
will stay with us for ever and ever."

"For ever and ever?" said Ruth, and she trembled; "please, ma'am, I
should like to go now, if it's all the same to you?"

"No! but take this flower," and, as she spoke, she stooped down, and
pulled up a forget-me-not by the roots, and breathed upon it, and it
blossomed all over; "take this root," said she, "and plant it somewhere,
and tend it well, and at any time after three days, if you get tired of
being here, all you have to do will be just to pull it up out of the
earth, and wish yourself at home, and you will find yourself there in a
moment, in your own little bed."

"Goody gracious! you don't say so!"

"But I do say so."

"I declare, I've a good mind to try!"

"What, pull it up before you have planted it? No, no, my dear. It must
be left out threescore and twelve hours, and be watered with the dews
and the starlight of the South Sea, where you are now, thousands and
thousands of miles from your own dear country; but there is one thing I
would have you know before you plant the flower."

"If you please, ma'am," said little Ruth.

"It is given to you, my dear, to help you correct your faults; you mean
to do right, and you try pretty hard, but you are _so_ forgetful, you
say."

"Yes, ma'am,"

"Well, now, but just so long as you tend this plant with care, and water
it every day at the same hour,--every day, mind you, and at the same
hour,--you will be growing better."

Ruth was overjoyed.

"But," continued the fairy, "if you neglect it for a single day, it will
begin to droop and wither, the leaves will change, and some of the
blossoms will drop off, and your mother will begin to feel unhappy and
low-spirited."

"O yes; but I never shall, ma'am,--never, _never_!"

"Don't be too sure; and if you neglect it for two whole days running,
all the flowers will drop off but one, and your mother will take to her
bed, and nobody but you will know what ails her."

Poor Ruth began to tremble, and the tears came in her eyes.

"But," continued the fairy,--"_but_ if you should neglect it for three
days running, my poor child,--but for three days running,--the last
flower will drop off, and your mother will die of a broken heart."

"O mercy, mercy!" cried poor little Ruth. "O, take it! take it! I
wouldn't have it for the world!" And she flung it down upon the loose
earth, and shook her little fingers, just as if something had stung her.

"It is too late