by W.A. Tyler

A white bead necklace in the shop being looked at heard the customer say: "Isn't that nice? Oh, only imitation pearls. Terribly sentimental, isn't it? I want the real thing myself."

The necklace grinned to itself . It knew the woman was only sentimental herself and wouldn't know if she was wearing real pearls or not.

"Vanity, " thought the beads, settling down in her box again, "your name is woman. "