"They weren't wicked things. They were all first-rate--everything that he made--better than any one else could make them." "But he didn't make them. There wasn't one of those poor fellows he cheated that wasn't a better man than he. The worst of them could do something with his own hands, and I don't believe he could do anything, for if he had ever tried he would have hated to be such a sneak. He cheated the king, too, and the princess, and everybody. Oh! shouldn't I like to have been there, and to have beaten him wand and all! For somebody might have been able to make the things better still, if he had only known how." Mrs Wilson was disappointed--perhaps a little ashamed that she had not thought of this before; anyhow she grew cross; and because she was cross, she grew unfair, and said to Willie-- "You think a great deal of yourself, Master Willie! Pray what could those idle little hands of yours do, if you were to try?" "I don't know, for I haven't tried," answered Willie. "It's a pity you shouldn't," she rejoined, "if you think they would turn out so very clever." She didn't mean anything but crossness when she said this--for which probably a severe rheumatic twinge which just then passed through her shoulder was also partly to blame. But Willie took her up quite seriously, and asked in a tone that showed he wanted it accounted for-- "Why haven't I ever done anything, Mrs Wilson?" "You ought to know that best yourself," she answered, still cross. "I suppose because you don't like work. Your good father and mother work very hard, I'm sure. It's a shame of you to be so idle." This was rather hard on a boy of seven, for Willie was no more then. It made him look very grave indeed, if not unhappy, for a little while, as he sat turning over the thing in his mind. "Is it wrong to play about, Mrs Wilson?" he asked, after a pause of considerable duration. "No, indeed, my dear," she answered; for during the pause she had begun to be sorry for having spoken so roughly to her little darling. "Does everybody work?" "Everybody that's worth anything, and is old enough," she added. "Does God work?" he asked, after another pause, in a low voice. "No, child. What should He work for?" "If everybody works that is good and old enough, then I think God must work," answered Willie. "But I will ask my papa. Am I old enough?" "Well, you're not old enough to do much, but you might do something." "What could I do? Could I spin, Mrs Wilson?" "No, child; that's not an easy thing to do; but you could knit." "Could I? What good would it do?" "Why, you could knit your mother a pair of stockings." "Could I though? Will you teach me, Mrs Wilson?"