of rubbish were lying: cabbage-stalks, dust, and rain-droppings that had
fallen down from the gutter under the roof.
“Now I am in a nice place,” said he; “my gilding will soon be washed off
here. Oh dear, what a set of rabble I have got amongst!” And then he
glanced at a curious round thing like an old apple, which lay near a long,
leafless cabbage-stalk. It was, however, not an apple, but an old ball, which
had lain for years in the gutter, and was soaked through with water.
“Thank goodness, here comes one of my own class, with whom I can
talk,” said the ball, examining the gilded top. “I am made of morocco,” she
said. “I was sewn together by a young lady, and I have a Spanish cork in my
body; but no one would think it, to look at me now. I was once engaged to a
swallow; but I fell in here from the gutter under the roof, and I have lain
here more than five years, and have been thoroughly drenched. Believe me,
it is a long time for a young maiden.”
The top said nothing, but he thought of his old love; and the more she
said, the more clear it became to him that this was the same ball.
The servant then came to clean out the dust-bin.
“Ah,” she exclaimed, “here is a gilt top.” So the top was brought again to
notice and honor, but nothing more was heard of the little ball. He spoke not
a word about his old love; for that soon died away. When the beloved object
has lain for five years in a gutter, and has been drenched through, no one
cares to know her again on meeting her in a dust-bin.
