face of her mother looking out of it at her. It was smaller of course,
but just the same loving, kindly face she had left at home. Then, as
she looked longer, she saw her father smiling gently up at her, then
came Poppy and the baby and all the rest of her dear little brothers
and sisters smiling up at her out of the golden gloom inside the Pot.
At last she actually saw the garden and her father in it tying up the
roses, and the pretty little vine-covered house, and, finally, she
could see right into the dear little room where her mother sat with
the baby in her lap, and all the others around her.

Flax jumped up. "I will run home," said she, "it is late, and I do
want to see them all dreadfully."

So she left the Golden Pot shining all alone under the pine-tree, and
ran home as fast as she could.

When she reached the house it was almost twilight, but her father was
still in the garden. Every rose and lily had to be tied up after the
shower, and he was but just finishing. He had the tin milk pan hung
on him like a shield, because it rhymed with man. It certainly was a
beautiful rhyme, but it was very inconvenient. Poor Mother Flower
was at her wits' end to know what to do without it, and it was very
awkward for Father Flower to work with it fastened to him.

Flax ran breathlessly into the garden, and threw her arms around her
father's neck and kissed him. She bumped her nose against the milk
pan, but she did not mind that; she was so glad to see him again.
Somehow, she never remembered being so glad to see him as she was now
since she had seen his face in the Pot of Gold.