od upon Bread._

You have doubtless heard of the girl who trod upon bread, not to soil
her pretty shoes, and what evil this brought upon her. The tale is
both written and printed.

She was a poor child, but proud and vain. She had a bad disposition,
people said. When she was little more than an infant it was a pleasure
to her to catch flies, to pull off their wings, and maim them
entirely. She used, when somewhat older, to take lady-birds and
beetles, stick them all upon a pin, then put a large leaf or a piece
of paper close to their feet, so that the poor things held fast to it,
and turned and twisted in their endeavours to get off the pin.

"Now the lady-birds shall read," said little Inger. "See how they turn
the paper!"

As she grew older she became worse instead of better; but she was very
beautiful, and that was her misfortune. She would have been punished
otherwise, and in the long run she was.

"You will bring evil on your own head," said her mother.

"As a little child you used often to tear my aprons; I fear that when
you are older you will break my heart."

And she did so sure enough.

At length she went into the country to wait on people of distinction.
They were as kind to her as if she had been one of their own family;
and she was so well dressed that she looked very pretty, and became
extremely arrogant.

When she had been a year in service her employers said to her,--

"You should go and visit your relations, little Inger."

She went, resolved to let them see how fine she had become. When,
however, she reached the village, and saw the lads and lasses
gossiping together near the pond, and her mother sitting close by on a
stone, resting her head against a bundle of firewood which she had
picked up in the forest, Inger turned back. She felt ashamed that she
who was dressed so smartly should have for her mother such a ragged
creature, one who gathered sticks for her fire. It gave her no concern
that she was expected--she was so vexed.

A half year more had passed.

"You must go home some day and see your old parents, little Inger,"
said the mistress of the house. "Here is a large loaf of white
bread--you can carry this to them; they will be rejoiced to see you."

And Inger put on her best clothes and her nice new shoes, and she
lifted her dress high, and walked so carefully, that she might not
soil her garments or her feet. There was no harm at all in that. But
when she came to where the