"'Tis well and nobly meant. But it won't mend the poor Little Dancer's heart. Alas! Alack-a-day!" CHAPTER VI When the tale was ended the little girl took out her handkerchief and wiped her eyes. "Come, this won't do," said the little Marionette. "I should not have told you the story if I had thought you were going to take it so much to heart." "I am very sorry for the poor Little Dancer," she replied sadly; "I wish that the Bicycle-man had not been so unkind." "Well, well, it is all over now. Wipe your eyes; you can't do any good by crying, and I don't like seeing tears," said her friend. "Never mind; I rather like feeling sad," Molly answered politely, though tearfully. "Still, a little sadness goes a long way," remarked the Marionette. "There is no doubt of that. I think I had better tell you something to amuse you now." She thought a moment and then she laughed. "What are you laughing at?" asked the little girl with curiosity. "At the remembrance of the Hansom-driver," she answered. "I never can think of him without laughing. Shall I tell you his story? I shall have time to do so this evening, for it is short, like the one I have just finished." And she began the story of: "The Hansom-driver." THE HANSOM DRIVER The Hansom-driver was indeed very plain, but he fancied himself very beautiful. 'Tis thus that we are liable to make errors of judgment; especially respecting ourselves. His cheeks were crimson and his nose was the same hue, yet he was quite convinced that all the young lady dolls envied him his complexion. His eyes were dull as lead, but in his boundless conceit he always compared them to sparkling diamonds. In a word, his appearance was terribly against him, yet his constant complaint was that he attracted so much attention, and won so much admiration wherever he went, that he could almost find it in his heart to wish he had been born ugly. His own looks were his constant topic of conversation, till at length the other Toys quaked when he opened his mouth, knowing very well how they were going to suffer. Amongst those who suffered the most from his talk were the Butcher, the Baker, and the Clown. They lived at the opposite side of the counter, where he drove every morning to give his orders for bread and meat. He never thought of driving away at once when he had done this, but always stopped to make remarks upon his own appearance; till at length, in common with the rest of the world, they became wearied to death of the subject. The Butcher and Baker tried to put a stop to it by making uncivil remarks, and the clown by making rude jests. But the conceit of the Hansom-driver still remained. One day when he was talking to his three acquaintances, the Butcher happened to remark on the beauty of the sunset-glow the previous evening.