A Tale of a Proud Pincushion.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XXXIX, Issue 21, 23 November 1907, Page 48

A Tale of a Proud Pincushion.

Once there was a Pin-cushion who was exceedingly proud of herself. Her coat was made of rich silk, with a pattern of roses over it; true, it was very faded, but it had once been part of a Court train, and the Pin-cushion gave herself airs in consequence. “It is a great thing to have moved in royal circles,” she told the nearest Scentbottle; “one never forgets the experience.” “So it seems,” answered the Scentbottle pleasantly, and when- she spoke, it was as if the breaths of violets were wafted through the room. “But you were trailing along the ground on that occasion, and there is not much honour about that!” observed the Nail-scissors, who was fond ot saying cutting things. “Some people are so jealous,” muttered the Pin-cushion, vexed, for she was vain of her former position, and expected her companions to treat her as a lady of rank. They had never been to Court, poor things! There were two Scent-bottles, twin sisters, and both tall and handsome. By nature they had such sweet dispositions that they never quarrelled with the Pincushion, but the Button-hook secretly made fun of her. He was a tall, slim young gentleman, and found the Pincushion too plump for his taste. * “She has absolutely nd waist,” he whispered to the Scissors, “and I daresay it was in the reign of good Queen Anne that the poor old thing made that wonderful journey to Court. . Look at her roses; they are quite faded.” The Pin-cushion did not hear this, and continued to look down upon her neighbours, until one day there was a new arrival. This was a Hat-pin," straight'in the back, as if it had been drilled by a sergeant, who glittered and shone in a way that quite dazzled the ; Pin cushion. “How delighted I am to see a diamond once more,” she observed in her grandest manner. “There was so many - at the Queen’s Court which I had the honour of attending in former days. It is hard to come down in the world, is it rot? However, I see that yon are of high rank like myself, so pray let us l>e friends; we shall have so many things in common.” The Hat-pin mumbled something in reply, and felt rather confused, the real truth being that he knew nothing of high life, and was not a diamond at all. His glittering top-piece was merely a bit of glass, and he had not cost more than a shilling. 'Hie Pin-cushion, however, thoiight his matters quite distinguished, and tho liut-pin, who had not much sense in his

glass head, felt flattered by her notice She talked so much, and so grandly, tha* he fancied she must really be a great lady, so he paid her a good deal of attention. “It’s quite a charming romance,” said the Scent-bottles, who always made agreeable remarks. “Snip, snap!” went the Scissors; “has my lady really got a heart under that tight silk jacket?” “The two seem much attached to each other,” said the Button-hook, and this was true, for when the Hat-pin was off duty, he never quitted the Pin-cushion's, side. The Looking-glass was silent; he was a thinker, and reflected a great deal, but. seldom said anything, original or otherwise. Time went by; the Pin-eushion could do nothing but talk of that “polished nobleman,” —as she styled him—the Hatpin. For his part, he was beginning to persuade himself that he was really a diamond, and had been to Court, too. Then suddenly a dreadful thing happened. The Lady of the Dressing-table was in a hurry one day, and pushed the Hat-pin so quickly into her hat, that he could not bear it, and snapped ia two. “Never mind,” said his mistress carelessly. “It is not worth mending,” and the Hat-pin found his way into the dust-pan. The whole Dressing-table heard the speech, and the Pin-cushion was so much upset by it that she could not utter a word for some time. To think that she, who had been in the presence of Royalty, should have been so deceived as to take a common bit of glass for a precious stone. It was such a shock that she faded even more rapidly than before. “My heart is broken,” she told the Scent-bottles, who besought her in a fragrant whisper to be comforted. But in reality it was only her vanity that was hurt. She had taken up with an ordinary Hat-pin costing only a few pence, and this was enough to disturb anyone as conceited as she was. At length the Lady of the Dressingtable, who was a practical person, observed, “That Pin-cushion is too shabby to be here any longer; you had better cut it up, and see if any needles have slipped through.” The maid did as she was told, and there were actually twenty-six needles concealed inside the silk coat with the faded red roses! “Well, I never could think where all my children went to!” called' the Needlebook. “Now I know!” The Pin-cushion said nothing, she had, indeed, ceased to be a Pin-cushion at all, which probably accounted for her silence.